


letters

by ndnickerson, ulstergirl (ndnickerson)



Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Blood Exchange, Canon Divergence, Canon Het Relationship, Childbirth, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Love, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Married Couple, Married Sex, Military Draft, Pregnancy, Reunions, Secret Marriage, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wartime, Wartime Romance, Wedding Night, Wedding Rings, World War II, wedding vows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:50:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 76,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ulstergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy and Ned's relationship changes when Ned is drafted and sent to fight in World War II.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old story; I originally began writing it in 2006, and I'm picking it up again in 2013.

_She'll never be mine._

Ned Nickerson sat in the cafeteria at Emerson College, scraping his fork through the gravy-soaked meatloaf, his chin in his hand. The heavy monogrammed paper next to his tray was filled with slanting feminine writing.

He couldn't even remember where she was this time. Her letter made the vaguest references, but at least it wasn't _the war, the war, the war_ , like everything else these days. His father had been in the Great War, and he called Ned in the fraternity every night, to tell him if the draft letter had arrived.

Ned knew it was a when. Every morning when he woke, he remembered it was a when. At seven o'clock when he walked to the study to wait for his father's nightly call, his heart pounded.

He looked down at the class ring on his hand. The heavy thick paper, lightly perfumed with her scent, caught his eye, and Ned turned to it again. 

_Your friend,_

_Nancy_

He was always careful to sign his letters the same way she signed hers. More than once he'd found himself ripping up an otherwise unassuming letter after he'd slipped and signed it the way he wanted. _Love, forever and always._

_But she'll never be mine._

He usually didn't let himself think about it, not like this. But a month ago, his best friend had received the draft letter. Twenty-four hours later, he was engaged; now, a week before his scheduled departure, his longtime girlfriend was his wife, a thin gold band around her finger and a charming smile on her face. Mike had confided after one too many drinks that maybe he'd come home after, his family already swelled to three.

Ned ran the ball of his thumb over the margin of the page. As much as he liked Jan, Jan wasn't Nancy. He couldn't imagine that Nancy would ever be one to sit at home waiting for anything. As alluring as he found the thought of her standing in some red-and-white checkered kitchen in an apron, stroking a palm over a rounded belly with a glowing smile on her face, it was as unreal as the war going on half the world away, and Ned wasn't Mike. Nancy would be no hasty wartime bride, when the letter came.

Ned folded Nancy's letter and slipped it back into its envelope, back into his bag. 


	2. Chapter 2

The day the letter came he borrowed his father's car and followed the river road to her.

Her roadster was in the driveway, baby-blue and sleek, and through the screened doorway he could hear the distant tinny whimsy of music through a small radio. The song was incredibly popular, played at all the school dances and socials, and he had thought to dance with Nancy to that song, someday.

He swallowed hard before he climbed the stairs and knocked on the screen door.

Her father was tall, dignified, his face softening when he saw Ned. "Hello, Mr. Drew."

"Come in, come in, Ned," and Ned walked in. The room was warm but not uncomfortable, and Mr. Drew's favorite ottoman was pulled in front of his favorite armchair, and the music was louder in here.

"How have you been, sir."

"Well," Carson replied, settling back into his armchair, gesturing for Ned to take a seat on the couch. "How are your studies going?"

Ned bit back the impulse to reply with the same generic monosyllable. "Quite challenging, sir, although it does take tremendous effort to concentrate when the weather is so nice."

Mr. Drew's eyes were gleaming with humor. "Try being in a law office. If you came to see Nancy, as I have no doubt you did, she's in the kitchen."

Ned nodded. "I brought my father's car over," he said, as calmly as he could manage. "Would you mind if Nancy and I went for a drive?"

"If you have her back for dinner, you can even join us for it."

Despite himself, a wide smile crossed Ned's face. Despite the sinking in his stomach, despite the fact that the Drews received the same kind of rations Ned's own family did. Hannah could work miracles with a sack of flour and a can of cocoa.

"Thanks, Mr. Drew."

Carson went back to his newspaper and Ned pushed open the door of the kitchen. The radio played from the corner, and Nancy and Hannah were bent over the stove. He watched her, reluctant to announce his presence; an apron was tied at the back of her neck and at the line of her waist, starched canvas over the short baby-soft curls and cornflower-blue dress, as she rolled biscuit dough flat and thin. The announcer's voice faded into another song and Nancy cried out in delight, twirling with the rolling pin still in her hand, her skirts swinging just over her knees. When her blue eyes finally caught his, her face was flushed with pleasure, her golden hair pinned up in rolls above her temples, her apron dusted with flour. Immediately she took the rolling pin into both hands and held it low at her waist, and the wide grin faded to a soft smile, but her eyes didn't leave his.

"Hi, Ned."

Hannah turned around with a sudden jerk, her palm against her bosom. "Ned! You nearly scared the life out of me. Dinner's not quite done, if..."

Ned shook his head as Hannah trailed off. "I came to see if I could steal Nancy away for a little while," he said. "If you can spare her for a drive before dinner."

He kept the light smile on his face, and Nancy only hesitated briefly before turning to Hannah. "The biscuits are almost done," she began.

"Oh, go on, girl," Hannah said, waving her off, reaching for the rolling pin. "I'll be fine."

Nancy was smiling when she lifted the apron over her head, her heels clicking on the kitchen floor as she hung it on the door of the pantry and walked over to him. "We're going for a drive?"

"It's a gorgeous day," Ned said.

"Well, we can't drive too far."

"I know," Ned said. "Especially not if Hannah has a pie in the oven..."

"Just for you, my boy," Hannah beamed over her shoulder, back at them.

They couldn't speak over the wind and she knotted a scarf under her chin and her hand rested on the seat, between them, her knees tight together. The river road was treacherous enough, without her hand between them, distracting him with the inchoate image of dying summer grass and smooth golden flesh and dancing blue eyes.

"I wanted to talk to you."

He couldn't keep his voice light, now that they were alone, and her eyes dropped down as she loosed the scarf, folded it into straight crisp squares, and slipped it into her handbag. "You don't need to butter me up, you already get to stay for dinner," she teased him softly, her eyes dancing.

He reached for her hand and the touch of her skin against his was so rare and delicate that for a moment he couldn't breathe. "Come with me," he whispered, and before she could respond he came around to her side of the car and opened her door, and with a brief flutter of lashes and a swirl of skirts over tanned shapely legs she stood before him.

Even in low heels, she couldn't take the hike through the grass from where he had pulled off the road. He took the rough heavy blanket he'd found in the trunk and spread it on the patch of brittle heat-stricken grass under an oak, and he looked away while she dropped to smooth knees and arranged her skirts over her lap. He watched the sunlight shift in dappled traces over her gleaming hair, her braced palm and splayed fingers on the blanket beside her hip, legs doubled and heels tucked beside her.

"You can take your shoes off," he said, all in a rush, and the same soft amusement touched her eyes in the hesitation before she slipped her heels off and laid them side-by-side on the ground.

"Thanks."

Her voice was low, her cheeks faintly brushed with color, and he knelt down before her. Her toes wiggled in her stockings and he almost laughed, because if he didn't laugh, right now, he was afraid of what he would say, afraid that her blue eyes would shutter and she would weave the tight lace of eloquent denial in that low melodious voice of hers, without any of it having been said, without his telling her, without her knowing.

"Nan, I."

The words he had bit back so many times were there again, and they were words that he could not legitimately speak, not until after words like betrothal and engagement and wedding were spoken. She shifted and an inch of thigh sheathed in peach silk vanished as she tugged her skirt over her knees.

"I'm going to the war."

Sometimes when he couldn't sleep, when he was feeling especially unsure, he imagined that she kept him around because he was convenient. A convenient car, a pair of strong arms, willing and able to tackle a suspect, tie a slipknot, decipher a rock formation or rappel down the side of a mountain, that he was one in a long interchangeable line of men drawn to her for those laughing eyes, that cool intelligence, the light endless dance of flirtation and desire.

The tears gleaming in her eyes when they met his proved him wrong once and for all. Her mouth opened slightly and then she was still, one strand of blond hair trembling in the wind, and her blue eyes were so wide.

"Ned, you..."

He wanted to touch her fingers again. He wanted to slide his fingertips down the alabaster curve of her cheek, wanted to rest his palm over peach silk and the warmth of skin just above her knee, to comfort her somehow, to run away from all of it with her right now, in this golden afternoon, and never leave her side again. All from the sight of tears swimming in her eyes, confirming all that her light dismissals had tried to deny.

"You can't go." At the last of it her breath caught in a soft laugh, then the edge of a sob.

"It won't be forever."

They both knew it could be a lie, but they both had to believe it. Her nod was slow and she hung her head, the deep pink of her lower lip trembling faintly.

"Nan," he said, and when she looked up at him he could trace the wet line down her cheek with his gaze, and when the impulse came he obeyed it without a second thought or breath. He pulled her into his arms and her skirt slipped up around her hips, her bare arms joined around his shoulders, and he had never been so close to her without some crisis at hand, some acceptable explanation, some plausible denial for the fact that he could feel her heart racing in her breast. His palm traced slow circles over the small of her back and she was breathing against his collarbone.

"Why," she whispered.

He produced a handkerchief and handed it to her, and she clenched it in her fist, the square of starched white cotton with his initials embroidered in black, without moving to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "Because they need me."

She shook her head. "There has to be a way," she said, and her voice was muddy with tears, her eyes bright in her flushed face. "Daddy, Daddy can do something, find a way—"

He slipped his fingers under her chin and tilted her head back until her gaze met his. He shook his head slowly. "As much as it scares me, I want-- I want to do this," he told her. "I want to feel like this is all, worth something, Nan..."

She shook her head, but she didn't say anything, and when he trailed off he slipped his arms around her waist and just held her, waiting, waiting.

He could feel the exact moment she came back to herself, the exact moment she started building that wall he hated so much. She straightened her spine and slipped away from him, the last trail of her fingertips down his arm marked in rising gooseflesh, adjusted her skirts, reached for her shoes. The breeze was still warm but the horizon had gone bright and pale with the sunset.

Once she climbed to her feet she looked almost the same, almost, and then she sniffled. "We should get back," she said softly, and he took one long last look before he gathered up the blanket and stood. He kept his hand loose at his waist, between them, drawn toward her by the unspeakable magnetism between them, and after a few steps he felt her fingers against his, tentative and cool.

The porch light was burning when he pulled up at her house, parking at the curb, then turned to her. Her fingertips were plucking at the hem of her skirt.

"When do you leave."

He leaned in toward her, his fingers moving over his seat, but he couldn't bring himself to test their newfound intimacy, not when her father could see them through the window.

"I report for my physical on Friday," he said, his voice low. "After that I go to training."

She sniffled again. He could hear her fingernails scrape against the fabric of her dress. "So we have some time."

He nodded. "We have a little time."

She leaned on his arm and her heels sounded on the walk, up the stairs, through the screen door, and they were in golden light again and she was bustling around the kitchen with Hannah, producing jugs of lemonade and tea and he was left in the living room with Nancy's father, wondering belatedly if her lips had brushed so close to his collarbone as to leave the faint trace of her lipstick there.

\--

When he dreamed of Nancy she was in black velvet with her hair spilling in golden curls over her shoulders, over his cheek, and her inner thigh was bare and pale and smooth as it brushed his hip, and that cool blue-eyed gaze was clouded by desire.

"Ned, I love you."

He tightened his fist in her hair, gold silk curls between his fingers, and kissed her, and kissed her. Red-stained lips and the close scrape of teeth and black velvet over the small of her back as he pulled her to him.

"Mine, you're mine, say you're mine."

He kissed her until she could only moan her agreement, the loose bowl of warm fabric over her lap, her nails against the base of his neck, sweeping over his shoulder blades.

"Yours. I'm yours."

He jerked awake with the sheets in a tangle at his feet and her name on his lips.

\--

They didn't talk about it, and most of the time he was glad. To talk about it now would be to ruin the time they had left, the dwindling days, the hours he waited until it would be appropriate for him to call again. She even drove over to Mapleton to see him one Saturday and he bought her a milkshake at the drugstore which she slipped, slowly, while he wondered what her kiss would taste like. Cream and sugar and strawberry and the very idea of her tongue, chilled with ice. He cupped his chin in his palm to hide the slight trembling.

Hannah packed a basket full of sandwiches and cold pickles, potato salad and chicken, fresh fruit and a square of chocolate for each of them. After the four of them shared the meal, Bess unwillingly followed George to the side of the river, swearing she would pick flowers instead of taking a refreshing nature walk.

Nancy had just packed up the last remains of their lunch when she felt Ned's gaze on her, and turned. "Take your shoes off," he said.

She obliged, standing on the quilt in stockings, shading her eyes to gaze at him. She was wearing her hair long and straight, the skirt of her green dress billowing and rippling at her knees.

Without warning he lifted her, effortless and smooth, and tossed her over his shoulder. With her stomach against hard muscle and her knees joined tight and bent up together, she laughed and the wind carried the sound away. "Put me down," she cried, her fists beating halfheartedly against his back, and he ran with her, as though if he could only run long enough and far enough, he wouldn't have to report for training the next morning, he wouldn't have to subsist on dreams and the occasional postcard.

"I'm going to write you every day."

The moss was cool under her feet and Nancy gazed up at him, under the faint canopy of the foliage above her head. She linked her fingertips between his, her eyes bright, her cheeks still flushed from the excitement.

"I'll write to you too, every day," she said. "I promise."

He leaned down and her eyelashes brushed her cheek, her lips parted softly. He hovered just over her, just close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin, and brushed his mouth over her cheekbone. She made a soft noise and her hand came up to rest at the back of his neck, over the short soft hair there, and the corner of her mouth touched the corner of his and they rested that way, only breathing, only ever breathing.

Then she took a small step back, just enough, and he could think again. But he could only think of black velvet.

"I'm going to miss you so much."

Her eyes grew wet and he blinked in surprise and wonder. "Don't say it," she whispered, and her voice was shaking slightly, and all this time, all these weeks, save for the constant tangle of their fingers they had been as before, never mentioning it, never wanting to break the spell of this.

He still couldn't believe that finally, now, this was what he had half-hoped and half-feared she felt for him, and it was all true, all too late. He reached up and brushed his fingertips just over the wet trail down her cheek, and when she reached up to cup his hand under hers he felt his heart like a painful swelled weight for just a moment, just a moment.

"I know," he said, and looked down, gathering his strength, the strength of her touch. "I know you aren't ready to get married, and I wouldn't—I wouldn't ask you for that. Not now."

She tilted her head and gazed at him with those drowning eyes, and for a moment he thought she was going to protest, but it passed and he felt himself almost visibly deflate, just a little. She didn't know that at a single word he would drive back to Mapleton, this very minute, and ask his father for the family ring. She didn't know that.

"And this is going to sound... ridiculous." He stroked his thumb over her cheek.

"What is it," she said, finally, and her fingers laced between his to rest against her cheek, and he took a deep breath.

His cousins had done it, when he was eight years old. With a seriousness only they could muster, with purloined switchblades and cowboy hats, still covered in dust and peanut butter. Ned had never participated, but he had witnessed, fascinated. One slice through the meat of the palm, the join of a handshake, and then a bond that lasted until the next game of war or broken toy.

He sliced his right arm open, on the pale underside, over the web of blue vein, then handed her the blade, his eyes bright as they searched hers. She extended her left arm and held the point of the knife to her flesh, then shook her head, short, brisk.

"I can't," she said softly. "I can't." She handed him the knife.

"You do it."

He took her fingers between his, holding her arm steady against the faint tremble, and placed the flat of the stained blade over her skin. He drew it across, in a smooth shallow cut, and she didn't wince, didn't make a sound. As one they moved, lacing their fingers together, and she fished out one of her handkerchiefs and tied their forearms together. He could feel her pulse, feel the wet heat of her blood smeared over his arm.

"Now we're together," he said softly. "Now there's part of you in me."

She nodded and her fingers tightened between his. Then she reached up and pulled him down to her, his face just above hers, and they gazed at each other, unblinking, her eyes searching his. She closed her eyes and he could feel the warm touch of her breath through her parted lips, her fingers tight against the back of his neck, her fingers laced between his, her blood mixing with his.

He closed the distance between them and brushed his lips over hers in the softest kiss.

Her fingers were in his hair. Her fingers. Her lips were parted and when they kissed again it was harder, deeper, with the rapid sweep of his tongue over her mouth, again, again. He wrapped his left arm around her, tight against the small of her back, lost in the memory of black velvet and lips swelled red from his kiss, and pulled her up against him.

"Ned." Her pulse against his, hard.

"I want you to promise me," he said, and he forced it at all out at once, without taking a breath, without giving himself time to think. "Promise me you'll wait for me. Until I come back or until you know I never will, promise me, Nan..."

She nodded, and then her blue eyes were gazing into his. "I promise," she whispered. "I'll wait for you. Ned..."

_I love you._

He shook his head and brushed his lips over hers again, gentle and soft.

After she wrapped her arm in his handkerchief and knotted it tight and he took her handkerchief and knotted it tight around his arm and they walked back hand in hand, his thumb stroking the edge of her palm. Bess was sitting in the shade beside the river, a crown of orange flowers resting on her hair, and George had waded in up to her tanned knees.

"You two were gone for a while."

Nancy slipped her shoes back on, and smiled, very briefly. "Yeah," she said, and tugged on Ned's hand. "Race you to the water."

\--

She hadn't let him say goodbye to her. When he had begun, on her father's porch, she had shaken her head and placed a thumb over his lips and silenced him. He was already so close to the edge, but she had whispered _not now, not now_ , and smiled at him, lacing her fingers between his, even though he could see the shining trace against her lower lashes and the delicate euphoria that was the tremble of her lips. They had lingered until the fireflies were out and the neighborhood had gone cool and dim, standing motionless, and he didn't want to stop touching her, didn't want to break her gaze. They would never be in this moment again. Her ruined stockings and her handkerchief around his forearm and her lipstick carefully reapplied in the car before they had begun the drive home.

"We'll see each other again."

He leaned down until his forehead rested against hers, but couldn't move any closer, not with her father on the other side of the door. "We will," he agreed, his breath against her lips.

When he went back to his father's car and looked back at her she was standing in silhouette in her father's doorway, looking back at him, and it took every ounce of strength he had to start the car and drive away when all he wanted to do was run back to her.

Her picture was the first thing he packed. He picked up white cotton shirts and white cotton socks and dumped them onto his bed, and he was just sniffing when he heard a floorboard creak behind him.

His father was in the doorway.

"Son."

Ned ran his hand through his hair and managed a smile. "Hi, Dad."

"I'm proud of you."

"Thank you," Ned managed. "That means—that means a lot to me."

He didn't dream. He woke blearily to the ring of his alarm clock and brushed his teeth and dressed as though still asleep, distracted, because he couldn't let himself think about it yet. She hadn't let him say goodbye to her. Her handkerchief in his pocket was smeared rust-red with his blood and he shouldered the duffel bag his own father had carried before he had been born.

He couldn't force down anything at breakfast and his mother had been crying. He looked down at the fork in his hand, the way the apron stretched over his mother's hip. Already in pearls and heels, her hair curled, her fingers clenched around the thin stem of a coffee cup.

"You have to eat something."

He nodded but he didn't eat, he just watched the sunlight slant through the windows and wondered when he would ever see her again.

His father walked out with him onto the front porch, the strap biting into Ned's shoulder, his thumb hooked underneath, and he turned, and he had to still be asleep. He had to.

Her roadster was parked on the curb in front of their house and she was leaning backward on her elbows against the hood, in crisp white with a short jacket in brilliant red, a slender gold chain around her neck and a slender watch at her wrist and a white cap pinned to her golden hair.

"Nancy?"

Ned's father turned just as Nancy pushed herself away from the car, in one smooth impossibly alluring movement, her heels clicking as she came up the walk. "I came to give Ned a ride," she said. "If you don't mind too much."

Ned's father glanced between the two of them. "Ned? I—"

Ned looked at his father for a long silent moment, and then James shook his head and reached for Ned's hand. "Take care of yourself," he said, his palm warm, and his eyes, his eyes, Ned was made breathless by the expression there. "And when you come back."

Ned waited a breath and then nodded. "I'll. I'll miss you and Mom."

His father hugged him, brief and hard, and then pulled back and nodded at Nancy, who still stood there at the foot of the stairs, her skirt fluttering at her knees, her blue eyes far calmer than he would ever feel again. She nodded back at him, white gloves stretching over the bone at her wrist.

"Thank you, Mr. Nickerson."

"Take care of him, Nancy."

They couldn't talk over the wind but he linked his arm around her wrist, once they were flying down the highway. She turned to him and the loose strands of her hair were fluttering at her cheeks and she smiled, but it was subdued, and if he had been driving he would have pulled over and kissed her until she was breathless.

"Ned."

He took his bag out of the trunk and rested it against the side of her car and then reached for her, pulling her up into his arms. The calm he had seen in her blue eyes was nearly gone, when her gaze searched his. She tugged her gloves off and tossed them into the seat and rested her palms against his cheeks.

"I'm going to miss you."

He couldn't speak. He could feel her breath faint against his lips and he kissed her, even though they weren't alone, and she returned it, her tongue against his, her fingertips stroking down the side of his face. When he pulled back for a breath she urged him back to her, and he kissed her again, again, until her lipstick was smeared over her cheek and her lips were swelled from the pressure of his.

"Nancy."

The first tear streaked down her cheek. "Don't tell me goodbye," she said. "Don't ever tell me goodbye. This isn't the last time we'll ever see each other."

He shook his head. "It isn't."

"You—you made me promise," she said, and he brushed his thumb over her cheek. "Now you have to promise me that you're going to come back. We have so much left to do, Ned."

He smiled. "So many mysteries left to solve."

"Yes," she said, and kissed him again, quick and hard. "I have something for you."

He kissed her again before he let her go, and she sniffled before she reached into her handbag and pulled out a thick cream-colored envelope. It felt warm in his palm.

"Don't open it until... until you're alone."

He nodded, and kissed her again. "You know you're the only girl I've ever wanted."

She ducked her head and blushed a little, but returned the kiss he gave her just as fiercely. "Ned."

"Can you... just go see my parents sometimes," he said. "Make sure they're okay."

She nodded. "I can do that," she said. "Ned, I."

He searched her eyes, but she faltered then. He had seen her chase down hardened criminals and outwit kidnappers, but he had never seen her like this.

"Take care of yourself," she finished with a sigh. "Come back to me."

He nodded. "I always will."


	3. Chapter 3

_Ned._

_I know now that I love you, and knowing it scares me to death._

_It's three o'clock in the morning and I haven't slept at all. I couldn't sleep. Whenever I lay down and close my eyes I see you, and I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe it's real, that you would leave._

_I've never felt the way I did when you kissed me. I've never felt for anyone the way I feel about you. And I didn't know until you told me that you'd be gone how much I was going to miss you. How much I do miss you, even now._

_I love you and you have to come back to me, because I can't lose this. I can't lose you. I wish I could say this all to you, but whenever I look into your eyes it's as though I can't think anymore. Maybe you understand what that feels like._

_Take care of yourself. You have to come back to me because we haven't had enough time together yet, we have so much left to do._

_Until I see you again I will remain,_

_Forever yours,_

_Nancy_

_\--_

_Nancy, my dearest, my only._

_I hate it here because you aren't here. I hate it here because I close my eyes and I can still feel your arm against mine and I can still remember what you tasted like the first time I ever kissed you and I want you here with me._

_I've loved you since the day you jumped up on the running board of your roadster and asked me what I thought I was doing, having the nerve to move your car away from a burning house, and your eyes were blazing, and you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I couldn't believe you even bothered to talk to me, and even now, sometimes..._

_I joked about it all those times because I was afraid that you'd put your hand on my arm and smile up into my eyes and brush it off and then the next week I'd see you with someone else, and this-- this dream, that it would all be over. I think you're the best thing that ever happened to me._

_And that, Nancy. Those words. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I will never ever feel this way about anyone else, anyone other than you, and it scares me. It scared me until I read what you wrote, and then it scared me because I couldn't find you and say those same words back to you, and I thought it was impossible but I have never wanted so much to see you again._

_There's no way... Nancy, I will always come back to you. Always. I will do everything in my power to make it back to you. Just keep writing me, just keep thinking of me, just... never, ever let this go. Never let us go. I need to know you're there. I need to know you're waiting for me._

_I love you. Forever and always. Until I see you again, until I can hold your hand and look into your eyes and say all this over again, I remain yours._

_Ned_

_\--_

_Ned._

_I'm on the back porch as I write this, watching Hannah. She let me help her work on the victory garden until I started making fun of the cartoon vegetables on the row markers, and she laughed so hard that she almost fell over, so she's banished me. In a few minutes I think I'll go inside and bring her some lemonade as an apology._

_I miss you. I miss you so much. The mark on my arm is starting to heal and I dreamed last night that somehow, somehow, that because your blood was in me and mine in you that I would be able to feel it if anything happened to you, and I would know that you're all right. I know it's silly._

_Your eyes look almost gold when you're kissing me._

_Tell me everything that's going on. Tell me how often you think of me, because, I can't, I can't stop thinking about you. And Ned, do you honestly think that I would ever have dropped you like that? I mean, it's true, sometimes when you weren't around I had to find a guy who was nearly as handsome to escort me to a dance or help me recover a lost fortune._

_I'm joking._

_You can't see my face but I'm on the point of tears. And you were always my favorite, you have always been my favorite._

_I look ridiculous in a straw hat. I'm convinced of the fact. When you come back I'll have to show you so you can laugh at it, even though Hannah says it looks fetching on me. I think she's laughing at me when she says it. But I have to go get some lemonade and I fear that if I don't put the pen down right now that I will just write that I love you until my hand falls off._

_Because I do. I love you so much. Love you, love you, love you. No matter what happens. No matter what, Ned._

_When you do come back, I do want to hear it. I want you to hold my hand and look into my eyes and say it all over again, every word of it. I want to ruin another pair of stockings while I hear you say how much you love me. Never stop._

_I remain, ridiculously hatted and ever, always yours,_

_Nancy_

_\--_

_Nancy, if ever a girl could manage to look fetching in a straw hat, I am sure that girl would be you._

_I will say it over again. I would get down on my knees and tell you I love you as many times as you want me to, when I come back. Even if you're in a straw hat, I'll still manage to bite back my laughter and say it all with a straight face._

_Every day here is exactly the same. The guys get care packages and their mothers and girlfriends and war brides put in pictures and cookies and socks. We wake up when the sky's still black, and my aim's getting better, although it started off better than a lot of guys'._

_I hope you don't think I'm terrible for doing this, but I took that picture of you, the one you gave me that I like so much, and pinned it to my headboard so I could sleep with it close to me, and the guy in the bunk above mine asked if you were my wife. For a minute I looked down at the mark on my arm and I didn't know what to say._

_I don't think your dream was silly at all. My dreams, Nancy-- those are, those are ridiculous. Like the straw hat and the cartoon vegetables. I think I scarred us when I pulled that knife across our arms, but it was worth it. I don't have a cheap gold weekend wedding ring on my hand, but I feel like you gave me something better that afternoon._

_Your eyes go even bluer when we kiss and it's the only time I've ever seen you with your guard down, without just the right thing in mind to say. I love you so much and I love feeling like I'm the reason. Nan, you never needed to be guarded with me. You have to know that I would do anything to never hurt you. Anything._

_Save me some lemonade. Because I wish more than anything that I was on your back porch right now, with you, and that you would never, ever cry over this again. I will be back, it'll just take a little while. The only thing I want almost as much as to come back to you, is to be over there, finishing this. I told you this can't be for nothing. I would never forgive myself for spending this time away from you, for any other reason than to help save the world. Because I'm beginning to think that's what they're training us to do. Save the world. Save the world so that when I come home to you, it will be with the knowledge that we will never let this happen again._

_I would write it until my hand went numb, how much I love you, but there is no way I can do it with pen and ink and paper. I'll just have to show you, and my darling, your eyes will be so blue._

_I miss you so much, and I love you even more._

_With every breath and every beat of my heart, every drop of our mingled blood, I remain,_

_ever and faithfully yours,_

_Ned_


	4. Chapter 4

_Ned,_

_is it any wonder that I can feel my heart beating now, because it senses that this will find you. I touch the paper and the words you send me and I can almost feel your breath against my ear, and it will never be good enough, but it's something._

_Bess and I went up into my attic today. You've never been up there. When Mother, when Dad lost her, he put everything in boxes and it's all still there. Like she's out there somewhere and she'll come back for it one day, come back to us. Even though everything I remember about her can be put in one sentence, the smell of lavender and her hair curling over her bare shoulder and the way her ankles looked when she wore heels and the way her lips were shaped like mine, even though that is the sum of it and this is the war and we have to sacrifice and make things stretch, I can't bring myself to go through those boxes, looking for anything to give away. I can't give away any piece of her, any piece at all._

_Bess and I found her wedding dress. Bess told me I should try it on and I stood there looking down at it, and—_

_Bess is getting married._

_I think they must have sent out another round of draft letters because she came over, fidgeting with the hem of her dress and biting her lip and eventually she started talking about Tommy Grey. Maybe you remember him, the last time-- there was a party at Emerson and a bonfire and he sat on the grass a respectful foot away from her while we sang and toasted marshmallows and waited for the stars to fall. She wrote to him sometimes, and right after-- he came to River Heights while I was still in bed convincing myself that there was ever going to be a reason to get out of it again. I don't think you will ever understand how pointless it all seemed to me right after you were gone, and the way it felt like if I could only kiss you one more time that it would have just been a little better._

_I still feel that way, even now._

_Tommy asked Bess and she said yes, and while they wait for the certificate she comes to see me and she couldn't be happier. This is Bess we're talking about. This is Bess who has been at her mother's elbow every day she didn't spend getting into trouble with me. She cooks and she cleans and when we sit in a circle darning socks (and Ned, you know that I love you and I can drive on snow and manage to untie myself in ten minutes, but darning socks, it is beyond me, and George is no better) she gets hers done first. It makes sense to me that she would be the first of the three of us to get married._

_But it doesn't feel real and I think that maybe she knows that. She says her name will be Elizabeth from now on, though. Elizabeth Grey. Maybe to everyone else, maybe it will be that way on paper, in the newspaper and on the marriage certificate and the wedding announcements, but to me, she will always be Bess Marvin._

_You told me you wouldn't do that to me, that you wouldn't ask if we could be married before you left, and if you had then I don't know what I would have said. It all feels so hollow, the gold on a cheap weekend wedding ring, when what we have is blood._

_I brought my mother's wedding dress down to my room and I'm looking at it right now, and Dad went to bed hours ago, even the fireflies are asleep, because it's one o'clock in the morning and I know you said you never wanted me to do it again but I can't stop crying and I don't know why, and I wish you were here with me._

_It's impossible but I love you more with every single day and every passing hour because I know it will bring you that much closer to me._

_My hand is numb and I have to try to sleep now, because every night that you've been gone I've dreamed of you, and for the second after I wake up, when I believe it's not true... it's a little better._

_I love you. I love you so much, so much. Come back to me as soon as you can._

_With every breath I take I remain, as ever, wholly yours._

_Nancy_

_\--_

_Nancy..._

_Sometimes your name is all I know anymore. Rumors are going around, that it's going to be soon, and there's a boy here, Nan, he's just a kid, he lied about his age and he can hold a gun steady against his shoulder and that seems to be enough, and he's scared out of his mind. I think on some level we all are. I stare at the bedsprings over my head while I try to sleep, and the only thing I can think is your name._

_Bess has always wanted to be married, is that what you mean? I can't imagine doing that to you, I can't imagine standing with you on my arm in front of a pastor and promising that I would be by your side forever, knowing that the next day I would ship off and it would have been a lie. Because Nancy, if I don't--_

_I can remember Tommy Grey, a little. It feels like so long ago, that bonfire, and do you know that now the only thing I remember with any clarity is the fact that your hand brushed mine when we both reached for another marshmallow. Touching you, Nan, it was like a drug to me, and I lived for the next time it might happen. Now I live for the next time I can put my arms around you, because nothing has ever felt as right as that, and that's where you belong. In my arms._

_I want to see your mother's wedding dress, and I... I bet you would look lovely in it._

_You say that every night you dream of me. What do you dream, Nancy? Do you dream of how it's going to be when I come back, or do you dream that I never left? Because I dream that there is no war, sometimes. I dream that there are no curfews or rations or guns, that there is only you with me, and your hand in mine and those blue eyes._

_It wouldn't be enough to kiss you one more time. I will never kiss you enough._

_Nan, you can't... you can't spend this time doing anything less. Do you understand me? We've been apart before, for so long, and you've always been able to find something to keep yourself occupied. Maybe even a little more than I sometimes liked, because I hate seeing you in danger. I hate the thought of your being in pain. Don't, darling, don't do this, because when we are together again this will all feel like a dream and you need to keep living. You have always looked so alive, when we're trying to puzzle through another mystery, and even if I hate your being in danger, I would hate the thought of never seeing that look on your face again more._

_Without you here I feel that my life has stopped and I'm borrowing someone else's time, to learn how to kill. I always thought I would just follow my father into his work and eventually one day... well, that day has come, and all that matters to me is coming back to you because I have waited so long, hoping that one day you would feel the same way for me as I do for you. I need to know that one of us is living, that for one of us life is going on something like normal, and you are the only one who can tell me that._

_I think that maybe the training will get easier but that being away from you never will. I love you, I love you so much, and when I come back to you and we're together again, that it would take an act of God to make me leave your side. I will come back to you, I will find my way back to you, and I want you to live for me, live for this, but most of all I want you to live, for you. If I give you nothing else I want to know that I've given you the strength to carry on, because Nancy, if I thought it would have hurt you less, even though it would have killed me inside, I would have kept from saying any of it. Even if it meant never knowing that you love me, I never, never, want you to live only to wait for me. You are worth so much more than that, to your father, to Bess and George, to everyone who knows you._

_One day it will all be a bad dream. Until that day, until the day that I see you again and my life begins again, don't let yours stop. Tell me everything. And don't cry, please don't cry, because I can't bear the thought of causing you so much pain._

_Sometimes I almost think I can hear your voice. Like you, sometimes I wake and the memory of you in my dreams is almost enough, for just a second, just a little while._

_Until I see you again, until the second I can breathe again, I remain always and ever, loving you._

_Ned_

_\--_

_Ned,_

_I am trying to take to heart what you said in your last letter, and it's difficult. Everything is changing here. You're gone, Tommy is gone and Bess-- Elizabeth. Elizabeth. I have to say it over and over under my breath before I knock on her parents' door, so that I don't slip and call her Bess again, but we both know who she is. She spent twenty-four hours with her new husband and now he's gone._

_Last night we went over to see your parents. I've seen them a few times since you left. Your mother is thinner and your father, the look in his eyes, I don't know what to think. But they really seem to enjoy having us over. Your father sits with his feet up listening to the radio and reading the paper, and your mother and B-- Elizabeth, Ned I can't do it, not with you. Your mother and Bess and I sit around the fire and knit socks and make blankets, and she gives us tea, and then I go back home just tired enough to whisper a prayer over your picture and then go to sleep._

_Last night, though, we came to your parents' just as the rain started, and it lasted all evening, and you know how the river road floods. By the time we were ready to go home, it was so dark, and I think your mother misses you so much that she almost wanted us to stay so long that we would have to stay over._

_At three o'clock this morning I couldn't sleep, so I watched the rain for a while and then I found myself in your room, and if your parents had walked in I don't know what I would have done. I saw the picture of me that you keep by your bed, the pennants on the wall, the trophies, and when I laid down for just a minute on your bed, I could almost feel you there. The smell of your hair is still on the pillows._

_I must have fallen asleep, and I slept better than I have since you went away. I dreamed of you and you had come home and the war was over, and you were so handsome, and you kissed me in front of my father and I didn't care._

_I woke up when I heard your parents downstairs, but your father didn't throw me out of the house and your mother smiled at me like everything was as normal as it can be now, so they must not have known. I brought Bess a cup of coffee but she was feeling poorly this morning, and she didn't wake while I was gone. It's as though I stole a night with you, and no one knows._

_Hannah grabbed my arm the other day and asked how I had hurt myself, and I told her something about the thistles down at the river. She offered to put a bandage on it for me, to help it heal, but I told her it would be fine. Can you still see the mark on your arm? Do you still think of me, Ned? Do you still think of it?_

_Ned, no matter what, I don't regret telling you how I feel... I only wish that I had been able to do it when you were standing in front of me, not through some cowardly letter. No matter what, I'm glad that we know now. I'm glad we did have that time together, and once you're with me again, there will be no force on this earth that will take me from your side._

_Before you... I was a bridesmaid, and I was convinced that any man foolish enough to think that he could spend the rest of his life with me would never understand that I wasn't meant to sit at home pining away all day, waiting for him, and satisfied that my life was meant only as a complement to his. I thought that would be the most confining fate, and that I would do everything in my power to make sure that my father never pushed me into it. There have been boys, junior litigators in his office, who have had their eye on me, before. I knew that. Every single one of them saw me as a way to cement his future with my father._

_But you were never like that. I know that when you protest, it's because you care. I know that you are the only one who has ever understood that what I do isn't a hobby and isn't a way to kill time until I find someone suitable and make a seamless transition between my father's house and his. This is a part of me. When you share that part of my life... somehow your presence has become so necessary to me that I turn to run an idea by you, and you aren't there, and it breaks my heart._

_I never thought I would be a wife. As much as I love Bess, I would not change places with her now, and Tommy, who seems nice enough... I feel like neither of us know him as well as we should and yet I find myself keeping her busy so she doesn't stay in bed all day, so that she doesn't sit by her window and sigh and daydream. She is as I was._

_I still miss you as deeply as I did before, but I think together that Bess and I manage to find enough to do to keep from giving in to it. Weeding victory gardens and volunteering at the Red Cross downtown and darning socks. We can do so little, but at least it's something. Helping Hannah find new ways to get around our rations and make a meal that doesn't taste abominable and go untouched._

_Ned... my only. I would be stronger with you here, but I will be stronger than I ever was before when you are with me again. Sometimes I wish I could scream that I love you so loud that you would be able to hear it, and maybe, some nights, maybe you do hear it, across all this space between us. One day it will all be a bad dream. I believe that. Without your letters to get me through this, though, it would be all the worse._

_Dream of me, because I know tonight I will dream of you. And if your life is with mine now, when it begins again it will be better than you have ever imagined._

_I love you, I love you, I love you so very much, and I remain_

_Always and ever yours,_

_Nancy_

_\--_

_Nancy. Nancy, I have never been this close--_

_Your letter came yesterday and your package came today, and if it had been any later, I would have missed it and I'm so glad that it came here on time._

_It's tomorrow._

_Now that I finally almost feel like I know who I am here, what I'm doing here, like I've finally built a place for myself, it's all going to be gone tomorrow morning. We'll be gone. I've heard, from some of the others, that mail will be slow, and the kind of day I have seems to depend almost entirely on whether I receive one of your letters. I'm going to be in for a terrible time, without you to keep me sane, Nancy._

_Thank you so much for the package, and thank Hannah too; I know her cookies when I taste them. Thank you for the pictures, thank you for all of it._

_When this letter finds you, I won't..._

_When I imagine you curled up in my bed at home, it looks right. I'm sure my mother planned it all, Nan. After you met her, that night over dinner she asked when you'd become her daughter in law. All I did was laugh, because I was sure that you were so far out of my league. I still think you are, but now..._

_If I could be with you right now-- I have willed, begged, with every fiber of my being that somehow it would be possible. I know what you meant, that one last kiss would make it almost better, would make me forget how this feels for just a moment. If I could just manage it. I would give everything I have just to have five more minutes with you._

_I am so afraid of this. I am so afraid of what will happen when the plane lands and I'm one in a sea of green, just another American with a gun in a line of heartsick men. I try to stop it but the thought that it's going to be nearly forever before I see you or my mother or father again, it's almost too much to bear._

_I love you, I love you, I love you, never forget that, never ever forget that. Look at the mark on your arm and remember that afternoon when we were under the trees, I came so close to telling you then, and now I wish I had._

_But I would still be here right now, the only difference... I would have been able to tell you how much you mean to me. You mean the world to me. You mean everything to me. Nancy._

_Before I met you, Nan... I was no different from anyone else. I wanted some sweet girl to keep my house and wait for me to come home to her at night. But since I met you... Nan, I had never imagined that I could meet anyone like you. You aren't some mindless girl who has only ever wanted to find someone, some guy willing to be a groom in the perfectly planned wedding and wrap the entire rest of her life around him. You have a personality. You know who you want to be and I feel that even without me or anyone else, you could find a way to be happy. You have your own ideas and dreams and I honestly feel that, when we see each other again, if you were ever to have me, that you wouldn't be-- you wouldn't be like everyone else. You would be a partner, a companion, an equal. I never have to weaken anything to help you understand. We work so, so very well together. I could be twice as good with you beside me. I could be twice the man I am with you beside me._

_But you aren't here. Even if... I can barely think it, but you would be all right. You wouldn't let your father make you unhappy by marrying you off to some jerk in a suit and tie. If you._

_I can't. I can't think about this right now._

_Tomorrow before the plane leaves, before this string between us stretches so tight, I'm going to send you something, and I hope it finds you._

_I will never, never stop loving you, and I will write every day, even if it's only to tell you how much I miss you. I am so glad that you're in my life, that you were in my life, that you aren't here to see the desperation that comes over us while we sleep, that eats us inside out. I need to make sure it never finds you. I need to do this for you, for us._

_I love you, my darling, my only, my angel, I love you. I dream of you every night, daydream about you, every second... I love you so much._

_Until I see you again, until the day I die, I will remain, always and ever yours,_

_Ned_


	5. Chapter 5

Nancy managed to keep the tears back. She managed it through opening the box, through the sudden painful stop of her heart at the words he'd written. Words like _war_ and _gone_ and _afraid_ and _heartsick_ and _die_. She managed to shove it all down tight and keep it contained until she pulled the roadster into the driveway at Ned's parents' house and scrambled out, not caring that her skirts had risen to an undignified inch above her knee, that the box he'd sent her was still clutched tight in her right hand, the corner sharp against her palm.

His mother opened the door with a sheet of ragged paper in one hand and a handkerchief tight in the other, but by then Nancy's cheeks were wet. So were Edith's.

"You got it too," Nancy gasped back another sob, and Edith nodded, and then pulled her into her arms.

Eventually the tears had to stop, and in the lull Edith made them both small strong cups of tea and they sat at the kitchen table, not quite looking at each other. Nancy had refolded the letter and put it back into its torn envelope. No eyes but hers were allowed to see those letters. She kept glancing at the sheet of paper at Edith's own elbow, each time feeling the small start of her heart at recognizing Ned's handwriting again.

"I realized," Nancy said, looking down at the fine creamy cap of foam on her tea as it grew cooler, "that I-- it's so stupid," she said, and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, willing a fresh wave of tears back. "Part of me believed that he would never really go. That he'd be in training and then they would announce that it was all over, and I thought, I thought I was almost okay with him being gone, but at least he was safe. And now." She shook her head.

"I know," Edith said softly. "He's our only son. He wasn't, it wasn't supposed to happen like this."

Nancy smiled as she remembered Ned's words, Edith asking when she'd become their daughter in law. "He's special to me," Nancy whispered. "I don't know... if you ever knew that."

"I knew," Edith said quietly. "I just wasn't sure if you did."

The shadows grew longer and Edith began her preparations for dinner, but Nancy's head was pounding so with the headache borne of hard tears that she couldn't bring herself to attempt the drive home. "Go lay down, child," Edith told her, and Nancy went upstairs to where the heat moved in thick waves over her skin and his was just another in the line of closed doors.

Her heartbeat matched the pounding in her head when she very quietly turned the doorknob and very quietly stepped into his still bedroom. Just for a second. If the scent of him had faded, if the comfort she had found here had only been the drowsed hallucination of a waking dream, she wasn't sure she could take it. Slowly she sat on the edge of his bed, on the unwrinkled comforter, slipped out of her shoes,

_take off your shoes_

and pushed her bent elbow under the cool smooth weight of his pillow.

She could still smell him there.

She cried again, so hard, so very hard. She cried into the pillow, against the palm she had sandwiched between to keep the smear of her lipstick off his linens and away from his mother's curious eyes. She cried until her head pounded even harder and her lungs ached with the force of it and she felt swelled and aching and exhausted.

Distantly she heard his father come home, heard Edith's muted greeting. She curled her fingers under the collar of her dress and pulled out a heavy gold chain, sliding down to the weight of the ring which had lain just over her heart.

The gift he had promised in his last letter.

She wrapped her fingers around it and held it tight, pulling her knees up to her chest. His ring. She jealously guarded the handkerchief he had given her that first afternoon, it was still streaked a rust-red with their mingled blood, but this.

She knew what it was to wear his ring. She knew what it would mean, if his parents, her father and Hannah, Bess and George, saw it. She wasn't ready for the questions in their eyes, the assumptions of the depth of their relationship when they had barely admitted it to each other...

She sat up, her heels dangling just above the floor, and looked around the room with her eyes swimming. Every second she remained here was another that his parents could walk in and find her, but she couldn't make herself leave just yet. She tucked the ring back under her dress and let her gaze trail over the pennants and trophies.

A newsprint photo in a gold-plated frame caught her eye.

She hated publicity. If she could find any way to shift the credit to someone else, she always did. But that case had found her with Ned in front of the newspaper photographers, and before she could protest or hide, the flashbulbs had been going off. _Local detective solves baffling case._ Ned had been caught in the middle of a grin, his head bent toward hers, in grainy black and white.

_That's where you belong, by my side,_ she thought, resting her fingertip just above the glass. _Ned, please, please, come back to me._

"We'd be happy to have you stay for dinner, Nancy," his mother said, after a brisk face wash and reapplication of her lipstick and her return to his parents' company.

"If it's not too much trouble..."

James smiled. "It's never too much trouble to have you here."

Even though she called Hannah and her father and told them that she would be staying late, when Nancy pulled up at her father's house, the porch light was still burning, and through the open screen she could see the light still on in the kitchen. In the shadows of the porch she pulled out Ned's ring and held it in her clenched fist, then tucked it back under her dress and walked inside.

"Nancy?"

"Hi Dad," she called back, locking the door behind her, flipping off the porch light. "I told you that you didn't have to wait for me."

"Humor your father," he said, appearing in the doorway in his blue bathrobe, a mug in his hand. "So you had dinner with Ned's parents?"

She nodded, pulling off her gloves finger by finger, folding them and slipping them into her purse, hanging up her coat. "I made sure to call Hannah in plenty of time, though."

"Don't worry about that." Mr. Drew walked over to the couch and settled at one end, patting the cushion next to him. "Hannah said you seemed upset earlier."

Nancy sat down beside her father and folded her hands in her lap and stared at them, unable to lift her head and look at her father. "I'm okay now," she said.

"What happened?"

"Ned sent me a letter, and," she cleared her throat, willing the ache to go away. "He finished his training and... he's probably already over there right now. Tonight."

Her father slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. "Are you all right?"

She sniffled. "I don't know," she whispered.

"Nancy... I know that you and Ned were spending a lot of time together, just before he went to training... and we talked about your... relationship with him."

Nancy felt the ring pressing against her breastbone. "We did," she agreed, fighting to keep her voice even.

"Did something change?"

_I'm in love with him, he's in love with me, I swore that I'd wait for him to come back. He sent me his ring, the ring his father passed down to him, when he knew that he might never see me again, but I'm afraid to wear it in front of you and I'm afraid of what you'll say._

She forced a smile, and turned to look at her father. "I just... I've realized that I care for him. More than any of the other escorts I've had."

"You know, Bess came over here today, and as heartbroken as you look right now, I think she almost looked worse."

"Bess came over here today?"

"While you were over at the Nickersons'. Nancy... did you..."

She lifted her hand and smoothed her hair back before she turned to him with a smile. "Yes?"

He met her gaze for a moment, then shook his head. "Never mind," he murmured, then patted her shoulder. "It'll be okay, Nancy. You know that."

She sat on the couch for a long time after he went to bed, her eyes gleaming, and when she dreamed, she dreamed of him.

\--

"Is Bess home?"

Nancy remembered too late the admonishment and her best friend's new name, but Mrs. Marvin was far too distracted to correct Nancy. "Come on in, Nancy. Would you like something to drink?"

"Water's fine, ma'am."

Nancy had not been able to force herself to leave her bed until Hannah actually came upstairs, pulled back the curtains, and told her that life wasn't going to stop just because she wanted it to. They had fruit and vegetables to can, and Nancy had already promised to help.

She had begged off for an hour to go see Bess, and now, under the thin calico, she could feel the ring pressing into her skin every time she took another breath.

She hadn't yet been able to sit down and write an answering letter to Ned. Mostly because when she thought about what he had written and where he was, and why his ring was resting against her skin, she couldn't breathe, and her head was filled with the high thin keening of grief. But Bess--

_Elizabeth, Elizabeth,_ she corrected herself in the privacy of her own head,

had the ring, even if she had never had the luxury of thinking that she and Tommy had all the time in the world to be together.

She had never thought she would wake up one morning this way, with Ned so far away from her. He'd always been there, she had never questioned it, had never doubted it. He had joked that he would marry her one day, that she was the only girl he'd ever wanted, but that life, that level of commitment, was years away.

At least, she had thought it was. Until he had taken her arm in his hand and drawn the blade across her skin.

She hadn't even been able to tell Bess and George, her best friends, what had happened between them. It was beyond speech, beyond explanation, and even now, thinking of it, her cheeks burned, her skin burned where it remembered the touch of his.

"Nancy?"

Nancy startled, her lips parted, and turned to see Mrs. Marvin's tired smile.

"She's feeling a bit under the weather, dear, but she wants to see you."

Nancy read the restrained worry in Mrs. Marvin's eyes, and gave her a reassuring smile. "I won't keep her long."

Bess was in her bed, tucked in securely, her face as white as the pillowcase under her straw-blonde hair. Nancy looked around the room, the same space she and Bess and George had lay on their stomachs listening to the radio, playing with paper dolls and telling each other's futures.

"Hey," Nancy said gently, and Bess turned to her, managing a wan smile with a curve of her pale lips.

"Hey," Bess returned, shifting, then winced. "I'm sorry. I was feeling better yesterday, and I came to see you..."

"Dad told me, and I was sorry to have missed you." Nancy sat down on the side of Bess's bed, looking down at her friend. "You haven't felt well for a while now."

Bess shook her head and winced. "Mother's worried about me. I think tomorrow she'll probably call the doctor and have him come here."

"I'm so sorry."

"Will you do me a favor?" Bess asked, her voice weak and feeble, and almost immediately Nancy answered.

"Of course. I'll do anything."

Bess's hand moved against the sheet. "I've been trying to write Tommy for a few days now, but I have a dizzy spell every time I pick up a pen. Would you mind terribly writing him for me?"

Nancy wrote the letter Bess dictated, and when Mrs. Marvin came to linger in the doorway, the air of a mother hen about her, Nancy made her goodbyes and walked slowly back to her own house and the promise of Hannah on the back porch, in her apron, sorting through the vegetables, her fingers worn red and sore.

Instead, Hannah was taking a break, fanning herself on the other side of the screen, and Nancy brought her the second glass of lemonade she had poured without even asking.

"Bless you, child."

Nancy sat down in the other rocking chair, the heat close as a second skin, her fingers sliding cool down the chilled edge of the glass. She watched Hannah rock from the corner of her eye.

"I'll be upstairs for a minute."

"So I should come get you when I'm ready to start again?"

Nancy smiled faintly. "Yes. Please do."

When she reached her room, Nancy locked the door behind her, then drew the chain up and freed the ring, still warm from resting against her skin. She looked down at it for a long moment before she slipped it onto her finger, and held it tight with her fist as she went over to her desk.

This time the words came easy, and she wrote until the light began to fail, until she could smell dinner from downstairs and hear her father's footsteps on the front porch.

"Nancy!"

She threaded the chain back through the ring, tucking it under her dress before she called back.

"I'll be right there."

The last thing she saw before closing her bedroom door was the portrait she prayed over every night, standing on her bedside table, the smiling face of the man she loved.


	6. Chapter 6

_Nancy, my dearest,_

_I dreamt last night that I lived in a tiny house on the moon, and you with me. Everything in our house was black, the whole house in black and white, all except your hair._

_It's easier for me to tell you about the moon than my life right now._

_I keep thinking that nothing at all has changed, that nothing is different, that you remain as you were the last time I saw you, with a bright red scratch across the inside of your arm, in that white dress. I had a little cousin, he was three when I left for here, and I still see him as he was the last time we were all together._

_I only wish I was somewhere near Tommy, so that I could make sure he has received your news, but he is not on the moon with us, Nancy. In our tiny house you make every food I've missed since I came over here. I say the moon because I can see it now, and you can see it too, and I almost would not have you share my blood today._

_I saw the face of the boy I killed today._

_Other men don't blink, and I know one day it's supposed to become that easy for me, but I almost dread it. I felt sick and scared, and in that moment I missed everything, Hannah's chocolate cake and your ridiculous little terrier and the smell of your hair. I missed my mother. When I go to sleep tonight, I know I will just see his face, over and over, and smell hot metal and blood. I've seen men who went through training with me, who slept through the night like snoring rocks, wake up screaming here. I don't want to be one of them, I don't, I don't._

_But if I have learned anything here, it is that I am no different from anyone else, no better, and in some cases definitely worse. They can't feel, and somehow that's better, and I lose a little more of it every day, until I see your handwriting on an envelope. The world you describe is as distant as the moon to me, and it's the only thing that keeps me sane and whole._

_Everything I see reminds me of you. A blasted oak in the middle of a barren field, a brook so quiet that I nearly run into it before I see it, the upturned faces of the sorrowful Virgin Marys in the towns full of sullen dirty faces. I remember our time together in cases and mysteries, in times you were in danger or following another string of intangible clues. Then I remember going to church with you one Sunday and holding your gloves while you laughed at something George said, and memorizing the exact shade of your lips before I had to force myself to turn away, before you could see me blush. I remember your fingertips on the smooth beads of your pearls and how your eyelashes looked against your cheek when you mouthed the prayers, and I asked forgiveness a thousand times, and I would a thousand more. I remember those things in the flash of a moment when everyone around me is screaming, the guns hot and heavy in our arms, and the sphere of my universe has become a single field and the long agony of death and dying._

_I remember you and I know that something so perfect could not be over, could not be lost to my life, and knowing that gives me hope. But then I wake up on the moon and know that for a few more days, a few more days, I will have to wait just a bit longer before I will ever breathe again._

_Maybe it is a sin to hope like this, to feel this way, but I don't know how my hands will ever be clean again, I don't know if I could ever undo what happened today, what has happened every single day since I left you._

_I saw despair in my father's eyes, the day we both knew I would be leaving for this. Only now do I understand it. Only now do I realize how important it is, to make sure that despair never touches you._

_Write to me on the moon, and forgive me, my angel, because only once you do can I even begin to hope for any other._

_I love you. I love you so much, and I live for your letters, so send me another soon, so that I can have another few minutes of air before I begin to drown again here, alone on the moon._

_With every moment that brings me closer to you, with every beat of my heart, I remain,_

_Always and ever yours,_

_Ned_

_\--_

_Ned, my love,_

_She has named him Thomas William Grey, and George and I waited in the outer room with Bess's parents like expectant fathers ourselves, pacing, watching the nurses flutter in and out of the room. When we went in, after, she was holding a tiny red-faced baby, and she looked exhausted and weak and happy._

_There at the end, and even now, I would take down Bess's letters to Tommy and then write my own letters to you, and I would find myself at a loss, my hand aching and already stained black with ink. Bess has been saying the most indelicate things, and I blush when I write them, but compared to all her news, the news of their son, I feel I have nothing to tell you, other than: I love you, and I have passed another day living only in the hope that soon I will receive the blessed news that you are coming home soon. Other men... other men come home. You have to come home. This has to end._

_But I will think of other happier things to tell you._

_Bess shan't move in for a while, and I begin to doubt that she ever will. Hannah came by this morning before I went to the hospital to see Bess and the baby again, and so now we have another tablecloth and some cuttings from Hannah's garden. The sounds are still unfamiliar at night, and I woke last night in the pitch black wishing I could do as I did when I was a child, go to Hannah's room in my dressing gown and tug at the quilt until she woke and made me hot milk and sat up with me until I could sleep again. I remember once when I was very small, having a bad dream and going to my father's bed, and I know Mother must have been there because I remember lying between them, but I remember nothing else; and Dad must find it so lonely in that room now, as I do sitting here. We could paper this entire place in posters for war bonds, empty ration books, the newspapers I scour every morning over my coffee._

_I wish I could grow small again, small as Bess's new baby, and I would know none of this. George makes it through all this, and she sends her own letters, but she has not yet told me who receives them. Maybe she and I have not spent enough nights between the black shrouds of the heavy curtains, in the dark, holding hands and praying for this all to end. Maybe she will tell me one night when I am sick to death of counting my ration coupons and remembering buttery mashed potatoes and weeks that I never worried about running out of gas._

_George and I are making a quilt for Bess's baby. We sew so slowly that the poor child's toes will peek out from beneath it when we're finished, but George is so tired when she comes home from work, and Dad has promised that he will pay the rent and the groceries for as long as I want, but here, in the city... Ned, there are trucks driving down the street, asking people to apply for work, and I'm_ here. _I can't sit all day alone in this apartment wishing you were here; that will not bring you home any faster._

_Jackson was drafted; did I forget to tell you? He has left and now Dad must find a new assistant, and he joked that maybe he should take me, but I think he says so only because he's afraid of me being in the city. He comes to see me as often as he can but the trains are so crowded, the buses, and my roadster stays still in the garage for want of gasoline._

_I wish you were here. I ache for want of you when I wake in the mornings, and I can go back to River Heights so seldom, to Mapleton even less, though your parents have made me swear and promise that George and I will be down to see them for Sunday dinner. Would that I could ask for a night in your bed in return... oh, Ned, I would sleep curled up on the floor before your door, I would give up nearly anything were I to walk into that room and see you there instead of only the trophies I know your mother still dusts, your empty bed, your scarred desk._

_I saw what you carved there. Maybe your parents would not recognize my middle name, maybe you thought you would disguise it by not tracing a heart around it, but I felt the grooves under my fingers and thought of you, and the tears come hard now but sometimes they still do, and I feel myself beginning to forget what life was like before this, even while I wish it back with every fiber of my being, even while I would go through all of this a thousand times over if only you were here to share it with me. Your absence, your absence alone makes this my misery. In the loss of you I find the loss of nearly anything else incomparable. But I have not lost you; we have the moon, that black-and-white house on the moon, where I will see you tonight and kiss your forehead and take a quiet account of all your wounds and link my fingers through yours and whisper into your ear that I forgive you._

_I will forgive you anything, Ned. Anything. The only thing I won't forgive you for is if you never come back to me._

_And here, Ned, it is all I can do to not follow Bess's example, and turn this into something lurid and terrible that you would cringe to read. For I still dream of you. Even while awake sometimes I dream of you, that I have caught a glimpse of your face on these deserted streets, in the brown eyes of another man, the curve of his shoulders or his smile. But you fade, before I can touch you, and I have to keep myself from crying. Every day I think that this must get easier. Every day it never does._

_You are my only. You are the heart of my heart, Ned, and I want nothing more than to have you in my arms, to be whole again, to make you whole again. If I can make it through this terrible time, so can you; for as long as you live I will live here too, in this other half of our life, watching the mothers on the sidewalk with their baby carriages and knowing Bess will soon join them, and wondering..._

_I love you, I love you; a thousand times, a million times. I will sleep tonight and find you there and hold you until I must again return to this, until you must again return to where you are. I wish I knew. I wish I could touch a map and close my eyes and will myself there. My will is so strong, now. It only fails when I beg it to bring us together, to help me find my way back to you, asleep or awake, for even the briefest second._

_I will find you on the moon, tonight. Wait for me there._

_I love you and I remain always, in this tiny apartment on this busy street, wherever you are, wherever you sleep, wherever you dream, my love, my only._

_Nancy_

_\--_

_Nancy, my darling,_

_God help me, God help me for this. That you would forgive me for all but my not returning to you. Do you understand yet, do you see yet, that there is no other reason, that I wouldn't forgive_ myself _were I to never see your smile again. I dream of nothing else, here on the moon._

_And you forgive me..._

_I would open my veins, I would walk to the end of the earth to end this, to be with you again. I want to see this place. I want you to show me around, in an apron, and I will love every inch of it, and I will never let you leave my side. On the moon everything is made of dust, all I love is made of dust but you, dust and torn quilts stained red with innocent blood, the blood of my friends and the men I've killed, the boys... my love, all but you, and I bury my face in your apron and your waist is so small in my arms, and when I begin to slip I can feel your kiss cool on my forehead and I remember why it is that I'm here._

_Sometimes when I'm asleep and it's so dark, I think for a second that I'm the only one left alive._

_They say I think too much, but I can do nothing else; in every spare second I have I write you and my parents because it's easier than_ being _here. Maybe I've never really been here. I don't drink, I don't kiss the girls with their hollow eyes and their open hands. I clean my gun until it shines and I try to think of anything to say to you that won't leave you feeling the same choking emptiness I feel right now. You are hours away from me and maybe right now you are trying to fall asleep in a tiny bedroom I've never seen. Trying to will yourself to the moon. We live on the bright side, and all I can breathe is your breath, but we never cry here._

_I don't cry. I want you but I don't cry. I feel an enormous terrible emptiness in my gut when I go through these motions, when I do these things, while I do what it takes to live, and I want to be with you, but I want you unbent by the force of this. The closest I have ever come... knowing you forgive me, that Bess is finally a mother, that I have been away from you for so long._

_I wish I could hear your voice. But I ask myself what I'd say... I think I would tell you that I love you and then I would listen to you breathe, because that in itself is such a miracle, the biggest of them all. That you live and breathe and somewhere you love me in spite of all this, in spite of everything I've done. I could fill that time with no truer words. There is no other truth in this life. In spite of all this I love, I love you, without ceasing, without pause. No fear or doubt._

_I was such a fool for not telling you this before I left. Such a coward. I just couldn't bear the thought that you would turn to me with those blue eyes and ruin me... and knowing, now, that you never would. If I had known. I have to hear you say it._

_I can hear the night breathe around me and I want to sleep, if only to see you. To run my fingers through your hair, and touch your cheek, and hear you whisper my name. I hear your voice every time the wind blows, every time I close my eyes. I can feel your arm linked through mine when I feel so tired I could faint. You are so strong, my love..._

_I wish so much that I could be in the city, with you, tonight, that I could hear you laughing. That I could hear you whisper my name, feel your breath against my ear. When I close my eyes I almost can._

_We can't live on the moon forever, but for a while, for tonight, it will have to be enough._

_Never stop loving me. I know I will never stop loving you._

_I remain ever and faithfully, always, yours._

_Ned_

_\--_

_Ned..._

_Never say that again. Never say you are a coward again. You're a hero for what you've done, for what you are doing. That you, a man, so very handsome, so strong, could be afraid of me... you need never have been afraid of me, need never be afraid of me. I love you, my darling, I love you so much, so very much, and it burns in my heart, the power of it overwhelms me. I thought I would never feel this way. No matter what..._

_I let my fear of this, of us, of admitting this to myself and to you... oh Ned. I'm so sorry for who I was, for what I was to you. For not letting myself love you sooner. How sad, that I can love you so deeply now when you are so very far away from me._

_I took a job waitressing, at a diner just a block down from George's. Our shifts are almost the same, and they aren't far; we walk there and back. Maybe when you bury your face in my apron you smell the grease from the hamburger sandwiches... although, my dear Mr. Nickerson, that image does make me think of Bess and her letters, and blush at that. She writes to her husband, the father of her child, and I... I will have to put out this candle soon, and my feet ache so. George and I soaked our feet in warm water baths, side by side on the couch, and laughed at each other. With her tips she bought us a chocolate bar, and we split it after dinner. Almost like a party again._

_George misses Bess so much, and I do too, even though we make the trip to see her nearly every other day, and her eyes when she looks at her son... it nearly broke my heart. There is no fear in that look, no doubt, no shame or pain or reservation. She loves him. He is her life. Bess, I know, would be sad if Tommy died, so sad, but she has her son now. She has her love in her arms._

_I want you in my arms. I have no one else in my life whom I love, the way I love you. I serve the men coffee and nearly every one looks at my hand, looking for a ring to mark me, and they ask me whether I have someone over there... over where you are. I tell them yes and they leave me tips anyway, because we all have someone over there, now._

_With you here, tonight, I would sleep; or maybe when you return I will never sleep again, I will just stay with my hands on your cheeks, searching your eyes, unable to believe that everything is finally all right again. I want to know your heartbeat again. I feel so tired, and I hate this distance between us._

_I don't want to have to sleep to see you again, but if it's the only way... on the moon, the airless moon._

_Every time the bell on the door rings at the diner I try not to look, even though my heart skips a beat, at the thought that it could be you, that you could be coming back to me._

_I love you. I can hear the sirens and I have to put out the candle. But if there's any way, any way at all you can feel this, you can feel what I do through that mark on our arms... know that you are the best, strongest, purest, most honest man I have ever known, the bravest, and the only one I will ever love. I will wait, I will live on dreams if that's what it takes, in this shadow of what we were and what we can be. I will dream you, and I will love you, curled tight in my bed, alone, waiting for only you._

_I love you. I love you, my darling, my only, and with all of me, with all my strength I wish you safe and I wish you back to me, fast as light, fast as a breath, fast as a heartbeat. I will love you and remain,_

_always and ever yours,_

_Nancy_


	7. Chapter 7

_Nancy, my darling,_

_I do not mean to make you blush... although maybe I do. We have been marching all night. It's so still I can feel my heart rise in my throat and I can hear_ everything _, so clear and perfect, and we're all waiting for the whine of the planes. I thought a hundred times of just walking away, into the woods, and just collapsing. My hands are shaking so badly that it will be a wonder if you can even read this at all._

_I know how much you hate to hear of anyone worrying for you, of anyone wishing you were any other than you are, but Nancy... I won't say it. If anything I've learned to hold my tongue. I want you happy, I want you safe, and untroubled, and everything I can't be right now._

_I would never have you find your way to me. I would have you wait for me... not wait for me. Nothing is as it was and I don't want you to see it this way. Everything is falling, broken, dying. You, you are none of those things, and I thank God for that. When I have space to think or breathe._

_I wonder if this will even find you. I need it to. Every time my eyes close I hear the water (it is all water here, all around us) and I think that in another life you would be here with me. It would be beautiful then, only then. There is a point here, and after we reach that point, for a little while, we can't be afraid anymore. It's impossible. For me it's when I realize that all that stands between me and the one thing you won't forgive me for, is luck and the grace of God and some German boy's night eyesight, some Italian soldier's timing._

_I miss my bed. I miss being able to call you whenever I want to hear your voice. I miss the way you used to grin at me when you'd drive your roadster. God, I miss the way you kissed me. I would never have let you go, never let you out of my sight, I would have just kissed you over and over and over until I had to leave. Or maybe I would never have left, then, I would have stolen you away and never let you go._

_I would not have you sleep at my door, but I am not yet quite tired enough, not quite so much out of my mind as to say anything beyond that. I would say so much, I would tell you so much, but it would fall so false. Just like our house of dust on the moon. What would it matter to tell you that I would buy you a thousand diamonds or swim the entire sea to be in your arms again, when I am so tired at this moment that I can barely lift this pen._

_I still think I would. If I didn't know that somewhere there are people dying, in pain, waiting for someone to save them, and knowing there's a chance, even a possibility, that we could do something to help them... I can't do anything else. No matter how badly I want to be wherever you are. I'm sick of death and dying and this endless night, but there are still people out there who are sicker of this than I am..._

_I'm sick of missing you, Nancy, but you're the only cure I know. I have loved you for as long as I've known you, and it hasn't been long enough. If you say I can, I swear to you I'll never leave you again. Never willingly. I would fight every villain in the world, take any punch, any bullet, for you._

_My love, my only, would that we were alone here on this dark beach. Would that I could sleep, in your arms, a thousand miles away from all this, just for an hour, just for a moment. Your kiss would give me the strength to go through another year of this... another year! My God, it cannot be so long. I will grow faint from want of you far before any bullet could ever touch me._

_I overspeak myself, I grow too tired and I forget my place, and what I can say... but so much time, I grow impatient. I have to say all these things to you, all the things I wonder and love in you, when you are before me again, starting with how much I love you. How much I will always love you._

_I remain yet so distant and ever, increasingly, undeniably yours, my angel,_

_loving you,_

_Ned_

_\--_

When Nancy received his letter, she didn't know what would come after.

She replied to Ned, telling him about going to see _Casablanca_ for a treat at the theater _,_ and she told him that she didn't want to ruin the ending but it had made her miss him terribly. She told him about the preparations she and George were making to celebrate Christmas in their tiny apartment, decorating the tree with paper snowflakes and leftover strands of tinsel. She told him about Baby Tommy smiling at her when she held him.

She didn't tell him about what she felt when she held Bess's child. She would not wish to be in Bess's place for anything, at home and raising a child whose father might never come home, whose father she barely knew... but it would not be like that, with her, with them. She knew Ned. Baby Tommy had given Nancy a toothless grin, waving his fists in the air, and Nancy had smiled back at him, amazed at the wonder of it. Her heart was with Ned, wherever he was, and life was hard, but then sometimes she saw a smile on a child's face and for a moment it didn't seem quite so bad.

When she didn't hear from Ned again for a few weeks, her next letter was lighter. She was afraid that talking about Christmas might have made him morose, knowing that he was spending it so very far away from her and everyone he loved. She had fallen asleep one night on the couch in her and George's apartment and when she opened her eyes again, their small Christmas tree had been the first thing she had seen, and the faint scar Ned's pocketknife had left in the flesh of her forearm had pulsed faintly.

She only ever dreamed of him. Always and ever, always him, and she woke with such longing that she thought her heart would burst.

He had to come home. He had to.

While she waited for another letter, she reread every letter he had sent her, careful not to touch the paper too much and smudge his writing, and doing just as she had every time. She imagined him with his comrades sleeping around him as he took a few stolen moments to dash off a line or two to her. She imagined him looking up at the moon the same way she did, knowing that even if they shared nothing else but that trace of exchanged blood, they could see the same moon.

She had thought herself too forward when she said it. Now, she just wished to tell him more.

She wrote him again, and again received no answer.

She had nothing else to think about, not really; once she had learned how to serve customers and keep them happy, she was able to do much of the work in a sort of waking dream, and she spent hours wondering if she had upset him; if, worse, he had met someone else; if, worst of all, he could not write because—

_No._ She would not believe that.

She saved her gasoline ration and her time, and drove to Mapleton to see Ned's parents again. Nancy didn't greet Ned's mother with the question that was on her lips, but it came up anyway, as they waited for any sign that they needed to pull down the curtains and maintain blackout.

He hadn't written his parents either, not since the last letter he had sent Nancy.

Mrs. Nickerson had greeted her with that same question unspoken on her lips, and as soon as each confirmed it, they turned pale. Nancy felt sick. As heartsick as it would make her, she would rather have believed Ned was angry at her and not writing for that reason, that he still lived but something else was preventing him from writing, than _this_.

She never wanted to be with him as much as she did in that moment. At least, she believed that. But the lack of letters... oh, she could feel each second that passed like a notch carved into her skin, the passing just as unbearable.

_Please. Just a line to tell me that you're alive. Please. I will never forgive you if you don't come back to me. Please, Ned._

She started a hundred letters in her mind; she started so many which she had to throw away when she ruined them with her tears or with plaintive begging.

_If your feelings have changed, just tell me._

_You have left me in agony._

_I need you. I need you to return to me. I need to hold you in my arms._

_My love. My only._

When she cried herself to sleep, she did so quietly. One night, though, the tears simply wouldn't stop, and she curled into a ball, her teeth chattering as she chanted the same prayer she had said for him every night since his departure.

_God keep you safe and whole. God bring you back to us._

She slept wearing his ring, and she held her hand over her heart, the wound he had left on the pale inner flesh of her forearm pressed against her breast.

_God bring you back to me._

Nancy heard the sole of a shoe scrape against the floor, and when she opened her swollen eyes, her lashes matted with tears, she made out the faint shape of her roommate standing there. "Hush," George said, her voice soft and not unkind. "I know, Nancy. I know."

And George sat down at the side of her bed and Nancy sat up and hugged her, and soon they were both crying.

\--

When the letter came, after so long, Nancy could hardly believe it. Her hands were shaking as she tore open the envelope.

She hadn't seen him in almost two years. With every optimistic news report, every story reporting that surely the end of the war had to be in sight, surely the Axis powers would see that their prospects were hopeless and surrender, she couldn't help but hope. She had read his letters so many times she had them memorized, had his handwriting memorized, and to see it now after months of silence—

Maybe he would be telling her that he was well, and even if he had found love with someone else, she told herself that she could find a way to deal with that knowledge, just as long as he was still alive. She had tried to prepare herself for every possible scenario, save the worst.

When she came into their apartment, her eyes were shining with tears, and George gasped as soon as she took a good look at her. Nancy was wrapped in her second-best coat, her blonde waves tucked under a faded scarf, but she couldn't feel the ache in her feet anymore; she couldn't feel anything else.

"He's coming home," Nancy gasped out, and George rushed over to embrace her with a delighted cry. "It's only on leave for a few weeks, but he'll be home. I'll be able to see him."

"Here?"

Nancy shook her head, sniffling and impatiently dashing her tears away. "California. I"ll have to take off. Maybe Dad can call in a few favors and get me a flight out there. It would be much faster than traveling by train."

George nodded. "It would, but it's so hard to get a flight..." She gave Nancy a smile, though. "Oh, Nancy, I'm so happy for you."

Nancy smiled. "I can't believe it," she murmured, and sank onto the couch still wearing her buttoned coat and gloves. She had just finished a shift and she was bone-weary, but the letter had galvanized her; she felt she could run all the way to California just by herself. "I can't believe he'll be here."

\--

So many airplanes had been claimed for military service that, just as George had foretold, finding a flight wasn't easy. Nancy begged her father to do whatever he could to help, and he came up with two tickets on a flight to California. Nancy took one, and Ned's mother took the other. Edith confided in Nancy that James very much wanted to visit his son as well, but he couldn't afford much time away from his own business.

They arrived the day before Ned was to arrive, and unpacked, settling into a small double room in a modestly appointed apartment house. The accommodations were cheaper than a hotel room, and neither of them had any intention of wasting a second they could be spending with Ned.

Nancy loved Ned's mother as much as she possibly could, and that first night, as she watched the older woman sleep in the bed on the other side of the room, Nancy clasped the ring hanging beneath her nightgown against her chest and told herself to stop feeling so jealous. She couldn't begrudge Edith's desire to see her son; she would have done the same.

But Edith didn't understand, and maybe she couldn't—Nancy and Ned had written the words to each other, but they had never been able to speak them, to look into each other's eyes as they confessed their love. The kisses they had shared, oh, oh God, they weren't enough. She never wanted to let him go.

A part of her wondered if her father had come up with that second ticket so she would have a chaperone, so someone would be there to hold her back from making any rash decisions.

Nancy had hated when the wound on her arm had become just a pale, almost imperceptible scar. When she felt sad or upset, she had grown accustomed to tracing it with her fingertips; she could still find it by touch. She kept the bloodstained handkerchief with his letters, too, and the ring he had sent her was always in contact with her skin.

But she had never been able to tell him aloud how she loved him.

She dreamed that night, the night before she saw him, that she was back in the city, in the diner for her shift. The entire restaurant was full of servicemen, in their drab green uniforms; she served them coffee and peered into their faces. Many of them were wounded, bandaged, and as she looked into each face, she searched for the man she loved—but she could not find him. She could not clearly picture him in her head, and none of them looked at her with any particular recognition either.

She hadn't meant to forget him. But it had been so long...

Nancy woke with a gasp, trying to catch her breath. Automatically she turned to the bedside table, where his framed photograph usually was, but she wasn't home and she had packed as efficiently as she could. The photograph was back at her bedside in the apartment.

But she had memorized every line of it, and she had memorized his face.

Nancy released a quiet sigh and pressed her hand against her heart. She hadn't forgotten him. She couldn't forget him.

But she was undeniably anxious the next day, as she and Edith traveled to the port to greet him on his return. Nancy folded her gloved hands in her lap, then unfolded them to smooth the skirt of her dress over her thighs. Hannah had helped her sew the hunter-and-cornflower-blue chevron fabric into a flattering day dress with generous pockets, and Nancy had taken a bit of the ribbon trim to decorate her smart green-felt hat. She wanted to look pretty for him, and it was her newest dress.

She had considered wearing the ring on her finger, but more than anyone else, Edith would undoubtedly recognize the jewelry and understand its significance. Nancy didn't want to do that until she had the chance to discuss it with Ned.

The closer the bus came, the harder Nancy's heart seemed to beat. When Edith touched Nancy's hand, she was concentrating so hard that she jumped, then glanced over at the other woman with a slightly sheepish smile. Edith's eyes were sympathetic.

"I know just how you feel," Edith said, speaking only loud enough to be heard over the drone of the bus engine. "I can't believe we'll be seeing him again, in only a few minutes."

_But so much has changed,_ she almost told Edith. _Everything has changed. I don't know how to act around him anymore. I don't know..._

The bus stopped, and as many of the other passengers rose to disembark, Nancy and Edith joined them, the color high in Nancy's cheeks as Edith linked her arm through Nancy's.

He wasn't quite home, not yet. But if he could return to her once, Nancy had to believe that he would return to her, to them, again.

\--

Ned Nickerson was tired. He had slept for most of the trip back to the States, when he wasn't waking from a nightmare. He was plagued by the terrible feeling that now, finally, now that he was almost back, he wouldn't make it. As close as he was to the people he loved, he wouldn't make it. He would be in sight of shore, so close he could almost cry, and he would hear that whistle—

But they had made it to San Francisco, and when they were finally on the ground, Ned shouldered his duffel and winced. His arm had almost healed, and he traced his fingertips along the pale scar on his inner wrist before shading his eyes to scan the crowd.

Where they had been in the past nine months, the mail service had been erratic, and many of his fellow soldiers hadn't received any mail from home. They had received bent Christmas cards sent by a Sunday school class in southern Florida, three months late, but Ned had received nothing from home, and he had read Nancy's letters, his parents' letters and relatives' letters, until he had them memorized.

He missed _home_. He missed Nancy, he missed Mapleton and Emerson and River Heights and Chicago, he missed his parents and friends. In his dreams, when he wasn't half-suffocated by the miasma of gasoline fumes and gunpowder, sweat and blood and rubber, he walked into his parents' house and they were all there, every one of them. His mother had made a roast and a large cake, the biggest he had ever seen, along with every food he had been missing since the day he had boarded the plane to come over. They had tied balloons around the room, and streamers too.

Nancy was there in his dream, her blue eyes alight, the ring he had given her hanging on the chain around her neck just as she had described to him. She was the first to reach him, and she threw her arms around him and held him tight, her slender body warm against his.

But he hadn't heard from her in so long. He had written to her, but the mail had been erratic and he had kept his letters. He had almost sent them when the ship had arrived to get them out, but by then there hadn't been any point. He had dashed off a short note to her, another to his parents, and decided to hand-deliver the rest—but only if it still made sense. If she had moved on, then he would burn them, but he would never forget what he had written and what had passed between them.

They had spent so much time marching, in transit, just watching and waiting, and all of them knew exactly how important it was to keep alert and aware of their surroundings—but Ned found his thoughts going back home, back to her. He was so afraid that he was just using the bad mail service as an excuse. Maybe he had scared her. Maybe she had stopped writing.

Maybe she had found someone else. Even now, maybe she was with someone else. Maybe his dreams were only that, but he hadn't been able to let them go.

The station was a mass of people, shouting greetings, clapping each other on the back, laughing, crying. Ned spent the most time around his fellow soldiers, and so the language he heard most often was English, but it felt different, here. No one was shouting about approaching planes or troops. While he didn't fully relax, he did feel a little of the perpetual weight of awareness lessen some.

He hadn't had enough time to write them and receive a reply back. He didn't know if anyone would meet him; he was afraid that Nancy wouldn't be there, and he hoped that at least one of his parents had been able to make the trip, but he told himself not to hope too hard.

"Ned! Over here!"

Ned's heart was in his throat as he tried to locate the source of the cry. The voice was familiar, feminine, and he hooked his bag a little more securely on his shoulder, taking long strides. He had felt like he barely had the energy for another step; now, though...

His mother was a petite woman currently surrounded by tall, broad-shouldered men, and by herself he wouldn't have spotted her. But Nancy was significantly taller than Ned's mother, especially in heels, and hers were the first blue eyes he saw. Both of them were trying to struggle through the crowd to him; Ned sidled through, apologizing but not slowing down when he accidentally bumped his duffel against anyone else.

"Ned!"

Ned dropped his duffel beside his feet and wrapped both of them in his arms, and they wrapped him in a tight hug. His mother was patting his back, and he could hear her murmuring, how grateful and happy she was to see him again. Nancy's face was near his neck, and Ned had his arm tight about her waist.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that. Slowly, slowly, he felt himself begin to truly breathe again. He wasn't sure what had been holding him up, but it faded, and they bore him up.

Finally the three of them pulled back, Nancy and his mother gazing at him. He could see sympathy in their eyes and he tried to see himself they would, but it had been so, so very long; his jaw was rough with stubble, his uniform a little faded. His mother looked thinner, and so did Nancy. Tears had streaked down both their cheeks, and they were gazing at him like he had come back from the dead.

He supposed that, in a way, he had.

"Here," he murmured, lifting his duffel bag, and glanced between the two of them. Nancy's lips were parted, and he could see the outline of the ring under her shirtdress. She looked so slender, almost too slender, but so beautiful.

"We have a room at an apartment house," his mother told him with a smile, grasping his hand. "I didn't know if you already had accommodations. They only have a few rooms available. We can call—are you hungry? Do you need to rest?"

"Something to eat would be nice," he said with a smile, and Nancy grasped his other hand as they headed out onto the street.

His mother was clearly fighting her desire to ask him about everything and her fear that doing so would upset him, so she kept up a steady stream of conversation, talking about their friends and neighbors, other men who had been drafted, her victory garden and the scraps and supplies they had donated, the bandages she and her Women's Circle had made, all of it. Beneath the table Nancy's hand had brushed his knee, and Ned had taken it in his own. He laced his fingers through hers, wishing he could say everything that he had put in his letters, everything. He had missed her so much. He had missed both of them so much.

Nancy's dominant hand was in Ned's left, but she had ordered only an ice cream soda. Ned could feel that she kept her gaze locked to his face, everything between them in her eyes. Once Ned's mother came up for air and apologized for monopolizing the conversation, lifting her sandwich to her lips, she nodded at Nancy.

Between sips, Nancy told them about her job in the city, the small apartment she shared with George, and Bess's baby. Bess still lived with her parents. They were able to help her raise Tommy, and Nancy and George went by to see her when they could. They had, Nancy reported with a smile, finally been able to finish the quilt for him.

Ned had finished most of his meal when his mother excused herself to visit the powder room. Nancy stared after her, apprehension on her face; as soon as she vanished behind the door of the ladies' room, Nancy's wide-eyed gaze was locked to Ned's face.

"I love you."

"I love you," Ned murmured in the same moment, and she panted out a breath before Ned pulled her to him, kissing her hard. She whimpered and released his hand, and his palm was damp from the contact with hers, and she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. Her kiss was clumsy but sweet, rapid, and when he murmured her name, they slowed down and he tipped his head the other way.

His tongue slipped into her mouth and she ran her fingers through his hair, and Ned didn't care who was around them; right now, he didn't care if his mother came back while they were locked this way. They had been apart for so long, and he had been so afraid that they had lost this, that he would never hear her speak those words.

She pulled back and the parting of their lips was audible, her lashes low over her blue eyes before she looked back up at him. "Ned," she whispered. "I love you so much, and I was so afraid..."

"I was too," he murmured, and reached up to stroke his fingertips down her cheek. "I love you."

Nancy sniffled, stroking the back of his neck with her fingers. "When you didn't write—"

"It wasn't that I didn't want to, I swear to you," he told her earnestly. "I—I wrote you but the letters weren't going out or coming in, I hadn't heard from you in so long either—but I have them. The letters I wrote you."

He groped the side pocket of his duffel bag as Nancy took a breath and pulled the ring from beneath the collar of her dress. "I always wear it," she told him, her eyes alight as she looked into his. "While I sleep..."

"I dream about you."

She nodded slowly as he found the letters and put them in her hands, the stack of them, and his heart beat harder as he handed them over. "I always dream about you," she whispered.

"I love you." He could never say the words as many times as he wanted; he could never hear her speak them enough.

"I love you too."

\--

That night, Nancy and Edith made sure Ned was settled into his room a few floors up from theirs before turning in for the night. If it had been up to Nancy, but it wasn't—she would have slept as close to him as she could. She hugged him goodnight when they left him at his door, and letting him go made her heart ache.

She still had his letters, though, tucked into her purse. The ones she had sent in the past few months, she wished she could remember—but they had been lost between them. Now he was here with her, though. She could say it all to him, in person, if they ever found themselves alone again.

Nancy waited until Edith was asleep, well asleep, before she pulled the batch of letters from beneath her pillow and took them to the window. She was disappointed when the ambient light wasn't enough, and she held her breath, mouthing a prayer as she took out her flashlight and went back to bed, watching Edith closely to make sure she didn't wake.

_Nancy, oh, my love. I wish you would write me; I've read your letters so often that now I can hear them, in my mind, spoken in your voice. I've memorized their every word, and when I imagine you whispering that you love me, I can't believe the lightness I feel. I can't count what I would give to hear you speak them in person..._

_If you're happy with someone else right now, I'll do my best to make sure you never read this, and I will lose a little piece of my heart every day in that knowledge. But, my beautiful detective, I love you above all others, above anything else. I couldn't get through this without the thought of you waiting for me, and as much as I hate the thought of you back at home, alone and upset—I want so much to pull you into my arms and hold you close. I look at the moon and think of you there waiting for me, and I feel just as far away... and sometimes, some nights, I fear that those stolen hours we had together are only in my head. For so long I was so afraid of telling you how I felt; it seems impossible now, that I could want this so much..._

_I promised you I would never ask this, but Nancy... the second I see you again... Nancy, I can't live without you. I can't. I told you with the ring before I could find the words to say it. I want you. I want to be with you forever. I want you to be mine. My greatest fear is leaving you before I can say those words; my greatest fear is death parting us before I can look into those beautiful blue eyes again. But this is close behind, love._

_There are no words for how much I love you, and I promise you that when I come home for good, the first words I will speak after I tell you how much I love you will be to ask you to marry me. And it's easier to write these words... oh, love, do you understand how I fear losing you? How I fear that I could startle you, that I've already said too much, let you see too much inside me. Oh, Nancy. I love you more than I thought it was ever possible to love anyone. I want you happy and safe and in my arms. I want to spend every day for the rest of my hopefully long life with you by my side. But not here, not like this..._

_Every step I take here, every night I spend miserable and hoping with all my heart that I will somehow wake and see your face again... with every day that passes, every mission we complete, I tell myself that it's another day, another step, to finish this once and for all so I can be on the way back to you. And that makes it worthwhile._

_My heart will never be complete without yours, never again._

Nancy read the letters over three times each, until her flashlight battery began to drain and the beam grew dim. With a very soft choked sigh she turned the flashlight off, then reached up to press her fingertips against the ring hanging under her nightgown.

_ask you to marry me_

Very quietly Nancy stood and crossed the room again, looking through the curtains up to the sliver of moon hung in the sky. The thought of marriage, especially when their lives were so different, like this...

But she thought again of Bess's baby, and how she had felt when she had held him in her arms. Ned was a good man, and as much as she wanted to believe that this wasn't the last time she would ever see him... She had taken him for granted for so long, and they were just words scrawled on a page.

But they were everything.

And she loved him more than she could ever possibly say.

\--

Ned's heart was in his throat the next morning when he rose and dressed. The man he saw in the mirror above the basin was clean-shaven, all the dust and grime scrubbed away, and his eyes were clear but anxious. He straightened his tie, swallowed hard, and made his way downstairs to meet his mother and Nancy so they could eat breakfast together.  When he saw the warm smile on Nancy's face, he relaxed a little. So she hadn't read his letters and immediately begun to distance herself from him—but then, he hadn't yet been able to speak to her, either.

The diner cooks made the best they could with what they had, and it wasn't the same as the food they'd had before the war, but it was still better than what they had in the field. Ned asked if he could possibly escort Nancy to a place where they could dance that evening, and Edith gave her smiling consent.

Then Nancy rose and excused herself, and as she stood she slipped something into his lap. Ned moved it under his leg, then into his pocket without his mother seeing it. He finally had a chance to read it after lunch.

_Ned, my dearest, my only._

_I wish that I had saved every letter I wrote to you, but I didn't know they were being lost. I wish I could remember it all now, but what I do know is that they were filled with longing. I told you about everything back home that tried to hold me, and how none of it felt as substantial as what is between us. I love you beyond words, beyond reason, and when you were gone it only grew, until you were all I could feel. Nothing else seemed as real to me as you, and you were so, so far away from me. To see you here, now—it feels like coming home._

_I don't know how I will let you go again, once it's time for you to go back._

_You say that you want to marry me. Ned... I want to be with you forever, and if the only forever we can have is this, this span of days, then I will take it. I want you for the rest of my life, our lives. Since you've been away, I have realized that each morning is a miracle, no matter how I may spend the day wishing so vehemently that reality could be other than it is, that just the strength of my love could bring you home to me._

_I love you. I love you so much._

_Yes. If you still wish it, my answer is yes._

_Yours now and forever,_

_Nancy_


	8. Chapter 8

In the past two weeks, Edith had accompanied Nancy and Ned to countless meals, movies, and outings. Nancy had been to California before, but not San Francisco; soldiers on leave just like Ned mingled with other tourists and residents. Nancy couldn't bring herself to be impolite to Ned's mother, but she was aching for time alone with Ned. Occasionally in that first week, Ned would casually mention a desire to visit a movie theater or stroll through a park, and his mother would say that she needed a nap or a few hours' rest, and so Ned and Nancy were allowed to take that time alone together.

The first time they were able to be alone, as they walked to the nearby theater, Ned had taken her hand in his. "Nancy... if you're just trying to save my feelings..."

Nancy had shaken her head immediately. "No. If you still wish to be with me, then I will marry you. If your feelings have changed..."

Ned had shaken his head then too. "They haven't changed." He had swallowed hard. "But I will wait for you."

His dark eyes had met hers, and Nancy had felt her heart beat harder. She could feel what he wasn't saying, because it was in her heart, too. He just needed to hear it. And she wanted to stay by his side forever; she wanted to pour out everything she had felt about him even before he had been gone, everything she had needed to say. She craved him, his touch, the sound of his voice, just the sound of his breath.

"I want to be with you," she said softly, squeezing his hand. "I promised you that I will wait for you, and I swear to you that I will. But... I don't want to wait."

The two of them had slowed until they had almost stopped, and Ned moved under the awning of a drugstore. "Nancy," he murmured. "I want to be with you..."

"And I want to be with you too."

"I don't know when I'll be back again," he said, searching her eyes. "Or..."

_If._

"You're here now," she said, and reached up to cup his smooth cheek. "We have this chance. I don't want to go back home knowing that we've wasted it."

"It won't be a waste. Not if I'm able to spend it with you."

She gave him a small smile. "And I will be here with you, every moment," she promised him.

Ned took a deep breath. "I don't want to wait either," he said softly, without looking at her, and then he brought his head up to look into her eyes again. "But I hate the idea of swearing to spend the rest of my life with you and then leaving you behind for—for another year, two..."

Another two years apart. A wave of sadness swept over her. "And I hate that too," she told him, frankly. "No matter what, being away from you is going to rip me apart, every morning when I wake and... and pray for you, every night when I beg God to make sure you make it through to the next morning. When I hold Baby Tommy, I feel such pity for Bess. She married a man she didn't know very well, but he's given her a beautiful son, and she loves him so much. He's the reason she wakes up in the morning, and being a wife and mother, that's all she has ever wanted.

"Ned... everything, _everything_ has changed," she murmured, and felt herself begin to choke up. "I... I look back now and I wish I had understood what I felt about you. I love you. I love you so, so much."

They were going to be late for the movie. Nancy found that she didn't care, especially when Ned lifted her into his arms. "And I love you. Honey, are you sure?"

She nodded. "I don't care if we... if we have a year, ten years, eighty years left. I want to spend them with you. Starting now."

Over the next few days, Ned had found out what they needed to get a marriage license. Since both he and Nancy were over the age that they would need parental consent, he told her that they could apply and have their blood drawn for testing, and after the waiting period, they would be free to marry.

For the first week they were in San Francisco, Nancy had been terrified of sneaking out after Edith was asleep. She didn't want Ned's mother to think badly of her. When they had been in San Francisco for five days, though, Ned asked her to meet him at midnight, and she did.

Over the following week, they had been with Edith during the day and spent time together at night, in the stairwell, on the roof, on the fire escape. They watched the city sleep and breathe, and sometimes Ned smoked, but once Nancy told him she didn't like the taste of it on his lips, he stopped smoking around her most of the time.

He didn't look at her when he told her about the battles, about the men he had killed, the nights he had been so miserable and cold, nights when it had felt like the morning would never come. She kept her fingers laced through his, held him, shushed him when he trembled. She hadn't been able to travel as much, and the small mysteries she had solved of late had been for co-workers, people she met at the diner, people George or Bess met. She told him about them anyway, and she could feel him tense, her cheek against his shoulder, when she told him about times she had been in danger. He was sorry that he hadn't been there with her. They stayed awake, talking until they barely had the strength to go back to their rooms and tumble into their separate beds.

They had talked between kisses, and she had kissed him for every moment she missed him, for every prayer, every sleepless night and every tear. He had kissed her with such tenderness, such love, his fingers buried in her hair, his body so warm and solid against hers as he held her close.

Once the waiting period was up, they had a choice to make. Ned's mother was still staying with Nancy, and if they wanted to have any sort of honeymoon, they would have to tell her what they were planning. Neither of them had mentioned their plan to her, and the longer they went without saying the words, the harder they felt to say.

The ceremony itself wouldn't take long, and they could have it done in ten minutes. But Nancy knew it wasn't the kind of ceremony her father would have wanted for her. Ned told her that when he returned, once the war was over, they would have that ceremony. She could wear her mother's wedding dress and walk down the aisle to him, and he would wear his uniform if she wished. But they didn't have time, not now.

On Saturday, Nancy and Ned went for a walk in the park together. When they were alone together, when Ned's mother wasn't around, Nancy wore the ring Ned had sent her before he had shipped out. He smiled when he saw it, telling her that it was his version of a fraternity pin or engagement ring. It had been his father's, Ned had worn it, and he had given it to her. Just as the blood they had shared had linked them, he had given her the ring to link them too.

"I wanted to ask you then," Ned told her, stroking his thumb against it. They smiled at each other, the hem of Nancy's navy and cream dress fluttering against her calves. "But I couldn't."

As each day of his leave had passed, Nancy felt more desperate. She didn't want to let him go. She wanted to beg him to hide her in his duffel bag; more than that, she wanted to take him home with her. She could hide him in the apartment she and George shared. And focusing on that instead of their agreement that they would go Monday to City Hall; that after, she would be Mrs. Ned Nickerson, and...

Nancy had some idea of what that meant, thanks to some of the letters Bess had dictated to Tommy, but she still wasn't sure. She knew that when Ned kissed her, when he buried his fingers in her hair, when his fingertips trailed down her arm, she felt like she could only breathe when he was with her. The closeness Bess had shared with Tommy, if only so briefly—she still spoke of it with sighs and downcast eyes, a smile curving her lips.

In two days. In two days she and Ned would be married.

When they returned to the apartment building, still holding hands, Nancy was surprised to see that Edith was standing in the lobby. Self-consciously Nancy released Ned's hand, and they both gave his mother matching smiles. "I just need to go rest for a little while and freshen up before dinner," Nancy told Ned, patting his arm.

"I'll see you soon," he replied with a smile.

Edith went upstairs with Nancy, and Nancy had just unpinned her hat when Edith coughed gently. "May I speak to you for a moment, Nancy?"

"Of course," Nancy said, putting her hat down on the quilt at the foot of the bed.

Edith sat down on the small couch in the living room area, gesturing for Nancy to join her. Nancy found herself blushing almost immediately. She was afraid Ned's mother was going to confront her for sneaking out to meet Ned almost every night for the past week; she had hoped that Edith wouldn't notice how exhausted both of them were every morning, and that Edith hadn't heard her coming back in when the sun was beginning to brighten the sky.

Edith smoothed her grey and white gown over her knees. "I've just spoken to Ned's father, over the telephone," she said, folding her hands in her lap before looking at Nancy. "I know you can understand this; James is an intelligent man, but he finds himself out of his depth when it comes to the smooth control of a household. He needs me home."

"Oh," Nancy murmured. "I... I'm sorry to hear that."

Edith shook her head with a smile. "His sister is keeping him fed, so at least I have that small comfort. I hate to leave before the end of Ned's visit, but I'm very glad to have had this time with him. I've brought my camera, and I thought tomorrow, if the weather's nice, we could take some snapshots before I have to leave for the airport. So we could have a remembrance."

Nancy nodded. "That sounds nice. I'm sorry to hear that you'll be leaving early. I know Ned has been so happy to spend time with you."

Edith nodded once, looking down. "I know that I should say that you and I will be leaving together, Nancy. When your father contacted me about this trip—and I am very grateful that he was able to help us arrange the flight out here—he didn't like the idea of you being here alone, and I was of the same mind. But we've found a nice area, and as long as you obey curfew, and make sure Ned escorts you when you go out, I think you should be perfectly safe here. Just as long as you're careful."

Nancy nodded, her heart rising. Sneaking away to marry Edith's son without inviting her had felt worse than just the unspoken lie; now they wouldn't need to worry about it. But now, suddenly, Nancy wished that she _was_ staying, that they might have the choice to invite her.

"You and Ned have spent a lot of time together," Edith said, more quietly. "And you've been on your cycle."

Nancy blushed and looked down. She and Edith had spent the past two weeks living together; it had been hard to hide very much. "Yes," she murmured. Part of the reason she had been glad to wait until Monday was her cycle, which was almost over.

"He loves you," Edith said softly. "Very much."

"And I love him," Nancy replied immediately. "Being able to see him after so long..."

Edith paused, then touched the band circling her left ring finger. "James was gone for two years," she murmured. "The last two years of it, and I prayed every night that peace would be declared the next day, until the words didn't seem to mean anything anymore. I understand. To see Ned like this... I wish with all my heart that I could take him home with us. I want him safe, but I will go home and begin that prayer all over again. That this will all end soon.

"You—when he told you he was leaving, you and he didn't elope, did you?"

The question was barely a question, but Nancy saw Edith's gaze on the ring she had forgotten to take off, and another quick flush rose in her cheeks. She didn't see any point in taking it off now. "No," she said softly. "Before he left, I... I realized that I loved him, but he and I, we never could say it... we only had our letters."

"But he knows now," Edith murmured. "I can see it in his eyes, in the way you two look at each other."

Nancy nodded. "He knows now," she said softly.

Edith patted Nancy's shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "It's hard. I know it is."

Nancy sniffled. "Yes," she murmured. "It is."

\--

Ned was sorry to say goodbye to his mother, but they made that Sunday before she left as happy as they could. They went to Top of the Mark to take in the great view of the city, rode the cable cars and took a walk through Chinatown, browsed through the flower stands nearby, then rode the cable cars back down to Fisherman's Wharf. Ned treated his "girls," and his mother chuckled when he called her that, to a meal at San Rimo's. The Italian fare was great and affordable.

Throughout the day, Edith paused and took snapshots. She took photos of Ned and Nancy together, and Nancy took photos of Ned and his mother, and a few times Edith trusted other tourists enough to hand over her camera so all three of them could be in the same photograph together. Ned wasn't sure how much film his mother used, but when he and Nancy said goodbye to her at the airport, when he hugged her, he understood the look in her eyes. She was praying that this wouldn't be the last time she ever set eyes on him.

"Keep Nancy safe," his mother told Ned. "And don't stay gone for so long again, okay? Come home soon. Your father and I have missed you so much."

Ned hugged her again. "And I've missed you too," he told her. "Both of you, so much."

His mother's eyes were gleaming. "We're both proud of you," she said softly, and patted Ned's arm. "All of us are. I just can't wait until you're home and safe with us again."

Nancy said goodbye to Ned's mother too, and Ned watched with some interest. Nancy and Edith had gone out together the previous evening together, before the three of them had gone to dinner. Afterward, Nancy had told him that she didn't feel comfortable sneaking out to see him, and she had reminded him that they would have the next week together. Ned still didn't know why they had gone out together.

With one last hug and kiss, Ned's mother began to climb the steps up to the plane to return to Illinois, and Ned felt his throat tighten. His mother hadn't seemed small to him until his growth spurt when he hit puberty, and since then he had always been much taller than she, but she looked very small to him now, and defenseless. _And that's why I'm going back,_ Ned reminded himself. _For her and all the people like her, for Nancy and everyone else I love._

When she was on the airplane, Ned said a quiet prayer that she would make it back safely. Then he reached for Nancy's hand and they began to make their way back to the apartment house. "Tomorrow morning?" he asked her quietly.

Nancy nodded, looking down. "Tomorrow morning," she said softly.

"Do you want to spend tonight apart, too?"

She gave him a small smile. "I won't need to sneak out," she mused. "But I would hate to have dark circles under my eyes on... on my wedding day."

He reached up and cupped her cheek. "And I would hate that as well," he murmured, then took a deep breath. "But... maybe we could sleep in the same room tonight."

Nancy raised her sweetly anxious blue eyes to his. "Ned," she murmured, shaking her head. "It wouldn't be proper."

"Not in the same bed," he said. "Just in the same room. I missed you so much last night. I'm going to miss you so much..."

Nancy swallowed. "Okay," she said, and Ned could read that anxiety in her voice. She had always been so good, so polite and so prim. But, as she had told him, everything had changed, and they hadn't been exempt from that. Back in River Heights, she would have been immediately shocked by the suggestion, but back in River Heights, they had so briefly been in a physical relationship.

That night, Ned asked if Nancy would be okay with it before he moved his luggage to the room she and his mother had shared, then went down to the front desk to turn in the key to his own room. When he came back upstairs and knocked on the door, Nancy opened it wearing a robe, her red-and-white-striped pajamas showing from beneath.

Ned had never been around a woman in her pajamas before, other than his mother, and Nancy definitely didn't look like his mother. Her blonde hair was loose and fell in soft waves around her pretty face, and though she looked a little tired, her eyes were bright as she smiled at him.

The lights were soft in the apartment, but Ned just let himself gaze at her unabashedly, until she ducked her head. She wasn't the same girl he had left behind. She was still slender, but more shapely; he could see faint marks on her hands and arms from when she had been hurt at work, and she moved with more deliberation now. She had become a woman, and Ned was disappointed that he wouldn't have much longer to spend with her. Not until they were back together again.

Surely fate wouldn't be so cruel as to make this rapidly waning span of days the only ones he would ever spend in her arms.

He could tell she was nervous. She offered him a drink as he went through his luggage, then came back and self-consciously handed him a glass of water from the small kitchenette. She sat down on the couch and tucked her hair behind her ears, then looked down at her folded hands.

He was charmed, to see her so ill at ease when they had been so comfortable around each other during their stolen hours. "Please relax," he told her softly, putting his hand on the cushion between them. He was afraid that if he touched her, she would startle away from him. "I won't do anything—improper."

Nancy turned those lovely blue eyes on him again. "But we already are," she pointed out, her voice just as quiet and just as firm.

"You said I could stay here—"

She nodded impatiently. "I... I've never slept in the same room with a man other than my father," she murmured. "And we aren't married."

"But we will be," Ned said, his fingers curling as he fought the urge to reach up and stroke a loose lock of hair from her cheek. "In a few hours. Unless you..."

"I haven't changed my mind, if that's what you're asking," she said. "But the fact remains that we aren't married yet. I—I'm sorry. I'm being foolish."

"No. I understand." Ned reached for her hand, and after a moment she laced her fingers through his. "It's so strange, isn't it. That before I left we had never had a chance... and I thought that you would never feel this way for me." He sighed.

"Oh, Ned..." She moved, turning her body toward his, to face him.

"Are we dreaming, the way I feel like I have been for the past two years? Because I could not bear it, to go back and know that this isn't real."

"It is," she told him softly. "It is real. More real than anything else that has happened."

Ned released her hand, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she cuddled against him. He was relieved when she didn't jerk away from him. They were alone, and while he would never try to make love to her without their being married, they had been just as close as they were now, if not closer, while lingering together in the stairwells and on the roof. Now they had no risk of being discovered this way, and maybe she wouldn't startle away from him at the slightest sound of someone approaching.

"You went out with my mother yesterday," he commented quietly.

She smiled. "We had a nice outing," she said. "She helped me pick out a few things."

"I'm glad," he said. "That the two of you are getting along so well."

"We both miss you terribly," she told Ned. "Your father, too. All of us. When I can, I go to see her just as you asked me to—and I like spending time with her." She took a deep breath. "Ned, I didn't tell her, but I think she knows what we're planning to do."

Ned looked down. "Did you still want to... to keep this between us?"

"Yes," she said softly. "I will tell my father and your parents that we're engaged, and we can have the ceremony in River Heights or Mapleton once you're home... but as far as I'm concerned, what we will do tomorrow, is for us. If that is acceptable to you."

"Yes," he replied. "Save for one thing, love. We will be..." He cleared his throat. "Unless I take precautions, we may have a child, and in that case—"

"In that case I would not keep it a secret," she said. "Surely, though, it cannot last much longer. Surely even if we did... if, a baby came, you would be home..."

"I would hope," he replied. "But if I take precautions, it will not be a question."

Nancy turned to glance up at him. The color had risen in her cheeks. "Do we need to decide now?"

He shook his head. "We can decide tomorrow night," he murmured, and stroked her cheek. "You..."

Nancy looked down. "Have you... these... precautions..."

"I know what to do," he said, feeling her cheek burn under his palm. "But I haven't needed to before. I've never... I have never been with anyone else that way."

She made a soft sound, like a strangled chuckle. "Then what will we do?" she murmured. "Because I don't know... I've never..." She sat up, wrapping her arms around her waist, and the loss of contact made his heart sink a little. "I'm afraid," she said softly.

"I suppose that's natural," he said. "I'm a little anxious myself. And if this... if you wish to delay, because I know this has been very fast..."

She shook her head. "We have delayed," she said softly. "I... we can't change the past, but I'm so afraid that... that we won't have another chance."

Ned swallowed hard. "But we only have a week," he said softly. "Do you know how hard it will be for me to leave your side, once I've sworn to love you for the rest of my days, once we've said the words that I've only ever dreamed I would hear you speak? And to give you my hand and my love, to cherish you—I could never have long enough with you, but a week, Nancy? A week of bliss, a week in heaven when what awaits me is a span of months or God, years, in hell?"

"Would it be easier for you to leave knowing that I wished to be your wife? Will you be any less my husband with the distance between us?" Her eyes were gleaming.

"How can I promise to love and support and cherish you if I'm not with you?" He clasped her hand in his again.

"You don't want—"

"I _do_." She sniffled, looking up into his eyes, as he continued. "I do, with all my heart. I want to go to sleep every night dreaming of my wife. I want to know that you're back home waiting for me. I want to know that I have a son or daughter with you, that even—even if I don't make it back home, that a part of me will live on with you."

A tear slipped down Nancy's cheek.

"But I don't know that it's what _you_ want." Ned gently brushed the tear away. "And if I—if I don't make it home, it will be easier for you to be happy and live your life without being tied to this."

Another tear slipped down her cheek, and she drew a breath that shivered with a sob. "I already am," she told him. "It's too late for that, Ned. The moment you did _this_ ," she held up her arm, showing him the pale scar which matched his own, "it was too late. And I'd rather have a week with you than a hundred years with someone else."

Ned cupped her face in his hands, searching her swimming eyes. He saw such longing there, and such fear. The next week truly could be all they had, as much as he hated to say it or even think it.

But he felt the same way. If he had his pick of any other girl in the entire world, he would still choose her, always and ever. And it would kill him to walk away from her when they had only just begun to truly know each other, to share everything that had been limited to ink and paper for the last two years—

It would kill him either way, whether she was his wife or his girlfriend, whether he woke in her arms or just in the same room with her. He would do everything he could to return to her, to replace the cheap wedding bands with his family's rings. He would build a true life with her, beyond the stillness and quiet of the one he had so often imagined on the moon, where it was only the two of them. He just had to live long enough.

Her lips were parted, and when he bent toward her, she didn't pull away. It had been different in the woods, in the open; behind closed doors, with no risk of Bess or George or their parents finding them, he took his time, looping his arm about the small of her back, and she swayed before bringing her hand up to run it through his hair. He tasted the salt of her tears, smelled the delicate trace of her perfume.

He had promised he wouldn't take any liberties with her, and so Ned pulled back before he truly wanted to. Nancy made a soft sigh that was almost a whimper, reaching up to wipe her wet cheeks with her palms. She whispered his name.

"What is it, love?"

When she wiped her cheeks again, sniffling, he found a handkerchief and gave it to her. She wiped her face, then held the square of cloth in her hand as she looked up at him again. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"Tomorrow... tomorrow night, when we... can we take it slowly?"

Ned nodded. "Yes, beloved."

Her lips parted again as she gazed at him. "Beloved," she repeated softly. "You are. You always will be."

He smiled at her, and gently patted her knee. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know how to take it quickly," he told her. "I... I know what we are supposed to do, but I have no practice."

"None?"

He gave her a small smile. "Well. Some... flirtations with a few other girls, before you and I met. But nothing very serious, and none so dear as you, none I cared for so much as you."

She gave him a small smile too. "And I have had no flirtations," she said quietly. "No man has ever touched me even as you do, as you have. I understand that I am..."

She blushed and looked away, and Ned gently touched her chin and lifted her face so he could look into her eyes again. "I am to lie on my back and try to relax," she said softly.

Ned felt himself flush a little too, at that mental image. "And we will take it slow," he murmured. "Because I will have a week with my wife, and I wish her to remember it fondly."

\--

On the morning of their wedding day, Nancy closed herself into the small bathroom and changed into the white dress she and Edith had found during their shopping trip. It was delicate tulle and lace, with short sleeves and a modest neckline; it looked very summery and sweet, and she could ask Hannah to add some pretty ribbon trim to it once she was back home if she wished to wear it again. She arranged her hair as best she could, then seated her small pale blue hat with the netting on her head and tipped it just-so. She completed her outfit with a pair of matching gloves, a string of pearls, and low sensible heels. When she took a step back and surveyed herself in the mirror, the woman in the glass looked both excited and a little anxious. Her makeup didn't quite hide the glow in her cheeks.

Nancy took a deep breath, then looked down. She had considered putting on her coat so Ned wouldn't see her dress until they reached City Hall, but the day was already too warm for it.

She stepped out and found that Ned had finished putting on his uniform in her absence, and he looked very handsome, even more so when he turned and saw her. He stopped in his tracks, his dark eyes glowing as he looked at her.

"You look very handsome, Ned."

"And you look so, so very beautiful," he murmured, as his gaze locked to hers again. "Surely that's not your mother's dress."

Nancy shook her head. "No. It's at my father's house. Your mother and I found this one before she left."

Ned's lips curved up slightly, and he chuckled. "So when you said you were pretty sure she already knew..."

Nancy tipped her head. "It was a very attractive dress," she pointed out.

"Is," he confirmed. "Almost as pretty as the woman wearing it."

After a quick breakfast neither of them could finish, they stopped at one of the flower stands on the way to City Hall to pick up a bouquet. They had plenty of time; they had no scheduled appointment and the weather was beautiful, and they could travel at their leisure. Still, they ended up at City Hall almost before Nancy had time to fully comprehend it.

The building was beautiful. Dimly Nancy remembered seeing a postcard of the building before the earthquake had damaged the original structure, but the current incarnation was unspeakably lovely. The interior was sweeping and intricate, hearkening back to the time when their own parents would have been married, and done in white and gold. If they couldn't be married in River Heights in front of their friends and family, Nancy privately thought that the beautiful locale was almost as good.

Other couples were waiting, too. Many, but not all, of the grooms were in uniform. Some women wore everyday dresses, some wore smart two-piece suits, some wore gowns much like Nancy's, and a few wore beautiful gowns with sweeping trains.

A photographer was walking through, asking the couples who had come without other guests if they wanted their photographs taken. When he approached them, Ned glanced over at Nancy, and she gave him a small nod. She wanted a memento of the day, more than the ring she would need to wear on a chain about her neck as she had worn the other, and her own small camera didn't always take clear photographs when in inexperienced hands. It was only after he had snapped a few shots and moved on to the next couple that Nancy realized how she must have looked; she and Ned had stood with their hands joined, the bouquet at her other side. In one she and Ned had been looking at each other; in the next, they had been looking at the camera.

The couple ahead of them had invited a few guests, but Nancy and Ned had no witness. While they waited, Nancy asked the couple behind them if they would mind serving as witnesses, and they agreed. The groom was a tall man with piercing blue eyes, and the petite, raven-haired woman beside him gave Nancy a smile as she said she would.

Nancy's anxiety felt like it was almost unbearable, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot, trying to keep a light, pleasant conversation with Ned, but she could hardly concentrate. While she and Ned had been discussing their wedding and the plans for it, even long into the night before, she was still surprised when she looked down and saw herself in her dress, the flowers in her hand, the heavy ring Ned had given her before on her finger. She couldn't believe the day had finally come. When she had departed Illinois with Edith, she had been afraid that the relationship she had built up in her mind over the past few years had been only illusory, overblown, fed on misunderstandings and her own desires more than truth. She still couldn't fully believe that he wanted to marry her, that the day had finally come.

Finally it was their turn. Once the clerk made sure all their paperwork was in order, the officiant smiled at them both. Ned took the rings out of his pocket, his hand trembling faintly as he opened his fingers. Mindful of the couples waiting after them, he took her hand. Nancy looked up into his eyes, her heart beating so hard she could feel it trembling through her.

Oh, how she loved him. With her every breath and every prayer how she loved him. The handkerchief stained with their mingled blood was in her purse, close to her as it had been since he had tied it about her arm. That trace of her still lived in him, just as that trace of his blood still lived in her, but now it felt as though her entire body was keyed to him, and all else around them fell away.

He was the love of her life, and no matter what else might come, she wished with all her heart that this moment stayed locked in her memory, that it would keep her warm when he was unable.

"I, Edmund Nickerson," he said, his voice low but clear, "take you, Nancy Drew, as my lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold, through sickness and health, for richer or poorer, until death do us part. I will love, cherish, protect and keep you safe, for all the days of my life."

"I, Nancy Drew, take you, Ned—Edmund," she corrected herself with a slight blush, and Ned smiled at her, "Nickerson, as my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold, through sickness and health, for richer or poorer, until death do us part. I will love, cherish, and obey you, for all the days of my life."

Ever since she had opened her eyes that morning, Nancy had felt more nervous than she could ever remember feeling. Other than the kisses they had shared, which had been inappropriate all by themselves, he hadn't taken further advantage of her, and she stood before him pure. Her heart was beating so loudly she would be surprised if he couldn't hear it even now, and the words were more difficult to speak than she had thought they would be. Not because she didn't mean them, because she did. Not because she regretted accepting and encouraging his proposal, because she didn't. She was overwhelmed by the emotion in his eyes, and feeling him slide the ring onto her finger was enough to make her fear that her knees might actually buckle.

"With this ring, I thee wed."

The slender band looked so delicate on her finger, but she took the thicker band from his palm without comment, and he held his hand out to her. She held it gently, slipping the mate to her band onto his finger.

"With this ring, I thee wed," Nancy said, looking up into his eyes.

Once the officiant declared them married and told them they could kiss, Ned took her hand, then bent down to give her a soft lingering kiss. Nancy closed her eyes, trying as best she could to hold on to the sensation. Her husband kissing her for the first time.

Her husband. For the rest of their lives.

Nancy's gaze was shimmering with tears when she opened her eyes again, and Ned was smiling at her. She tipped her head up and he kissed her again, softly.

Her husband.

She felt such joy she thought she might burst with it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit sexual situations.

Ned looked at himself in the mirror. He stood in the bathroom naked. The night was so warm that even the water evaporating off his skin didn't chill him. He had soaped and rinsed the day's sweat away, and he was glad he had no cigarettes nearby. He wouldn't have been able to resist the urge to smoke one.

Nancy was in the bedroom they would share for the night, their first night together as man and wife. She waited for him.

Ned looked down at his left hand and the wide gold band there.

They were man and wife, promised forever, and what he had dreamed of sharing with her was no longer wrong or forbidden.

He splashed his face with cold water one last time, then toweled off and dressed in simple cotton pajamas. He had grown accustomed to sleeping in the worst conditions, when miserable, freezing cold or boiling hot from weather or fever, soaked wet or dying of thirst, exhausted or shaking with shock or missing home more than he had ever thought possible. Sleeping on a mattress, indoors, and in the arms of someone who cared for him? In the arms he had felt around him in so many dreams, too.

After they had been married at City Hall, they had gone to a restaurant for lunch. He had been starving after eating so little at breakfast. The hostess, taking in their new shining wedding bands, his uniform and Nancy's dress, the bouquet still in her hand, had smiled at them and given them half off their bill. The beach was lovely, and though they hadn't stayed long, they had used Nancy's personal camera to take snapshots of each other and the scenery. They had captured as much of the day as they could on film, and a part of Ned wondered and hoped that if he and Nancy were given a son or daughter, that their child didn't learn of him only through the flat, indistinct images in a photograph album.

Their wedding day. He had married the love of his life, and now she waited for him.

The air hung soft and still, the quiet too perfect to be broken, and again he wondered if he had somehow managed to wish himself into a dream to escape what was going on around him. He had ordered each of them a flute of champagne with their dinner, and though he had believed the slight euphoria of it had worn off, perhaps it hadn't quite. He hoped that it lingered for her, though. She had done her best to hide it, but her nervousness had crept back in during the trip back to the apartment house, the giggling blushing bride left the blushing, quiet one.

Ned flushed a little himself as he went to his bag and found one of the condoms he had been issued. The shock of handling them had worn off after so long on the battlefield, and he and his fellow soldiers had found plenty of uses for them other than precautionary, but Ned still felt a bit anxious. He had practiced with one, learning how to put it on himself; he hadn't wanted to seem quite so inexperienced around his new wife, and he could hardly expect her to know how.

Nancy sat on the side of the bed nearest the lamp, hands folded and knees together, facing the door so that her blue eyes fell on him as soon as he was in the doorway. She wore a robe and the rings he had given her, one on each hand. His family ring was so large on her slender fingers that he did not wonder that she usually wore it on a necklace.

She took a breath and her cheek burned brighter with a renewed blush. Ned closed the door behind him, and when he crossed to her, his new wife couldn't have looked more ill at ease. She looked down when he put the condom, still in its wrapper, on the table beside the bed.

"Nancy," he said softly, and he heard her breathe out before she raised her head again.

"Love," he said, his voice still quiet, and knelt at her feet, putting his hands over hers. "Please relax, darling. I couldn't bear to see you so anxious..."

Nancy nodded once, slowly. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Don't be sorry. I am."

She gave him a small smile with no humor in it. "I have never enjoyed feeling so totally at sea," she murmured. "I wish I understood..."

Ned nodded in sympathy, then brought himself to his feet and guided her to stand with him. "We will discover it together," he said softly. "And I'm glad that the only woman I will ever make love to, is the only one I could ever love so much as this."

He cupped her cheek and she gazed up at him, searching his eyes. Ned waited until she tipped her face a little, her lips parted slightly, waiting for his kiss.

Three slow kisses later and her arms were up, about his neck. Two more and he had her robe unbelted, the tie loose at her sides. She gently ran her hand over the back of his head, brushing over his hair, and while he wanted so badly to put his hands against her bare flesh, he knew he needed to wait.

He began to gently pull the robe down to her shoulders, and she dropped her arms to let him slip it off. He turned to put it down, and when he turned back to the bed Nancy had pulled the covers back and was sliding beneath. She wore a pale pink gown trimmed in lace, very different from the plain striped pajamas she had worn the night before.

He saw her slide down on the bed, turning onto her back, her head on the pillow. She was modestly covered by the sheet and blanket, almost all the way up to her collarbones, and her cheeks were far pinker than her nightgown, especially against the pale slip of the pillow.

Ned glanced at the wrapped condom, then back at his new wife. "Do you wish me to take—precautions?"

Nancy pressed her lips together for an instant, her gaze on his face. "Will it hurt you to do that?"

Ned shook his head. "I don't imagine that it would," he told her. "So you would prefer it?"

She didn't respond for a moment. "Would you?"

He opened his hand. "I would not be the one carrying our child, should you become pregnant," he pointed out. "To me, in this, your desire is more important, love."

She took a breath and didn't respond again. Ned touched the corner of the blanket, then began to move it back, his heart beating harder as he did. "We still have some time to decide," he told her, trying to soothe her, and she gazed at him again as he joined her in their bed.

"But not very long," she whispered.

"You said you wanted us to take this slow," he reminded her. "But I will tell you when you must let me know."

She nodded, closing her eyes when he touched her cheek. He stroked it softly.

"I love you, Nancy."

"I love you too," she whispered. "I love you so much."

"And that's what this is," he said softly. "I do believe that. This is love, nothing to fear, not now. You are so beautiful and so precious to me, and this isn't wrong. Please relax, beloved."

She smiled. "Would that I could so easily," she murmured, and opened her eyes again.

"What is there to fear?" he asked her, still stroking her cheek.

"Pain," she whispered. "And shame... and not pleasing you."

In answer, Ned moved closer to her. "You are my wife," he said softly. "How could I be anything other than pleased, save if I caused you pain?"

When he moved over her and gently kissed her, supporting his weight on his arm to keep from leaning on her, she returned it, her lips parting under his almost immediately. He swept his tongue against hers, breaking the kiss just to begin another, and slowly his hand stole over her. She shivered when he barely brushed his fingertips over her.

He kissed her until she brought her hand up and tentatively ran her fingers through his hair, and he could feel the warmth of her skin radiating against his. The night was warm and he wore too many clothes, but his pulse beat hard in his throat as he imagined what would come next.

He hated the idea of mortifying her, but Ned pulled back to look into her face. Her lips were reddened from their kiss, her blue eyes glowing, and she released a soft sigh, her fingers combing through his hair.

"I need to turn on the light," he murmured, and gently stroked her cheek. He pushed himself up then and turned on the lamp at the bedside, and she blinked up at him, her brow slightly furrowed.

"May I take off your gown, love?"

Nancy hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded and pushed herself up. She reached down and maneuvered to slide her gown up from beneath her, then glanced down and back up at him. He gathered the warm silky material in his hands and began to move it up easily, and she raised her arms, the color rising in her cheeks again. She wore a brassiere and panties beneath her gown, both white; her arms were a darker shade than her torso, and Ned smiled. Of course they would be, just as his hips were paler than the rest of his body. She was always dressed so modestly, especially in the sun.

He dropped the gown at the bedside, then began to unbutton his shirt. Despite the heat he craved the feel of her skin against his, and she averted her eyes, then looked down at her hands, lying limply in her lap. Her shoulders were hunched in a little. She was feeling nervous again.

"Are you cold?"

She shook her head. "No," she whispered, then looked up at him again. Her gaze lingered on his bare chest for a few seconds before she looked down again.

"Did you not enjoy what we were just doing?"

"I did," she murmured. When she began to slide back down on the bed, Ned stopped her with a touch.

"No, please."

She looked up at him again, genuinely confused by what he wanted, until he moved close to her.

"I dream about holding you," he said softly. "About feeling you against me... But I don't want to upset you."

She shook her head, her lips trembling slightly. "Show me."

Ned swallowed, then grasped her hips; his hands could span her slender waist. She let him move her so she was seated on his upper thighs, and the faint scent of her lavender soap reached him. When he drew her closer, she slipped her arms around him again; he brushed his lips against hers, holding her close to him more easily than he had when they had both been lying down.

He kept his hand at the small of her back as they kissed, and Ned waited a few moments before he began to gently trail his fingertips against her spine. She made a soft noise when he touched the closure of her brassiere. He hadn't had much experience with unfastening them; it had been once, and dark, and the girl had helped.

Nancy broke the kiss, panting gently, and rested her head against his shoulder. She didn't say anything, and Ned leaned forward, kissing the point of her shoulder, then slipping the strap down. When he moved to look at her face, her eyes were closed.

"Darling? Can you..." He gently tugged at the back of her bra.

She sat up, nodding, and cast her gaze down as she reached behind her. When the undergarment loosened, she sighed, keeping her gaze down. She didn't pull it off.

Ned leaned forward again and kissed her other shoulder, slipping the other strap down. He gently moved it off her, and she didn't protest. He let his hands rest at her waist as he gazed at her bare chest for the first time.

Her flawless skin, paler on her torso, was cast in golden light from the lamp. He had never had the opportunity to see any other woman this way, and he gazed curiously at the gentle curves of her breasts, her deep rose nipples firm. After a moment she moved nervously as though to cover herself, then let her hands fall back to her sides.

"You're beautiful," he told her softly. "So very beautiful, love."

He brought his right hand up and gently ran the backs of his fingers over her breast, feeling the warm weight of it, then cupped her. She let out her breath in an audible sigh, then shuddered when he rubbed his thumb lightly but deliberately against her nipple.

"Yes?" he murmured, repeating the motion.

She shivered again. "No one... has ever..." She whimpered when he cupped her other breast. "Oh..."

Her cheeks were brightly aglow again when he looked at them, and he wasn't surprised. "Look at me," he whispered, and Nancy brought her head up.

"Nancy... what happens in our bed is between us," he said, as he kept caressing her. "Please don't be ashamed or upset if you enjoy it. Do you like this?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "It's so strange, though," she said, and her lashes fluttered when he brushed his thumbs over her nipples again. "I... oh..."

Ned smiled. "Strange?"

She nodded, almost lazily. "I feel so warm. Inside."

"I do too," he told her. "And so curious, and so very in love with you, darling. Can you lie down?"

She nodded again, and when she moved off him to lie down on the bed, Ned slipped out of his pants, then paused for a second before slipping out of his underwear too. Nancy was naturally curious, but he wasn't sure if her modesty would keep her from wanting to look at his naked body. He did know that nothing could stop him from looking at hers.

When he returned to her, she had pulled the sheet up over her, covering her nakedness. With an apologetic glance he began to slip it down. She made a soft noise when he uncovered her completely.

"Ned," she protested softly. "This isn't proper, I know it can't be. If you wish to... then we should turn off the light..."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I am. But I can't do this in the dark, love. I've never done this before and I... you're the only woman I've ever been with this way. I don't want to rush through this or just fumble blindly in the dark like some idiot."

Her palm was on her belly, fingers splayed. "It must be more complicated than I thought," she said softly.

He smiled at her. "It might be," he agreed. "What... so is that all you know, to lie there and try to relax?"

She nodded slowly. "And you will—we will be intimate," she murmured.

"And wouldn't you think that part of being intimate is seeing each other?"

Nancy shook her head, but her gaze stayed on his face.

"May I..." He moved, touching the band of her panties, and she didn't stop him. She took a breath and arched so he could slide the undergarment down, and then her gaze fell to his hips and she flushed scarlet. He was completely naked and uncovered, and he doubted she had seen any other man this way.

"If it disturbs you, I'll try to cover up," he murmured, slipping her panties off, and when he moved up again she had her legs together, knees tight. She glanced down, then back up at his face, then down again.

"You look so... different, from me," she murmured.

An apology rose to his lips as he looked at the join of her thighs, but she was seeing him naked too, and so he let it fade as he gazed at her. The blonde curls between her thighs were a few shades darker than the hair on her head, but he knew he would need to see and explore more of her before he was comfortable with proceeding.

He touched her hip and she flinched slightly, then shook her head a little. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm trying to calm down..."

"It's all right," he murmured. "I've never had anyone else touch me this way either. It must be strange."

She took a breath, then very tentatively touched his hip. She hadn't asked him to cover himself, and so he moved a little closer to her, feeling her idly stroke her fingertips against his hip and side as he rubbed his palm over her lower belly and upper thighs. She flinched again when he barely ran his fingertips over the top of her curls; her knees were still locked tight together. She ran her hand down the side of his thigh, then back up again.

Ned considered for a few seconds, but he didn't ask before he shifted, then guided his hand down almost to her knee. He slipped the blade of his hand between her legs and Nancy made a soft noise, her hand dropping to the bed beside him. He parted her legs and moved between them, and when he was able to bring his gaze back up to her face, she was still glowing and flushed, and she looked so young, as young as she had the day he had met her.

He almost apologized again, but he knew of no way he could make what he was doing any easier for her, other than trying to be gentle and soft as he could. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I love you," she whispered.

"And I love you," he replied. She whimpered quietly when he opened her legs fully, and when he bent her knees, she trembled.

"Ned."

"What is it?"

Nancy's eyes were gleaming when she looked at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm just afraid."

He gave her a smile. "Don't be afraid," he murmured. "Just tell me if something I do hurts you. I'll be very gentle, though. I'm told it's like a key fitting into a lock..."

Despite her clear anxiety, she gave him a small smile. "But that sounds simple enough."

"It would be..." He parted the outer lips of her sex and gazed at her, speaking to her soothingly. "But you are so different from me too, beloved, so strange and beautiful. I just need to see where I am to touch you..."

She shivered when he gently traced his fingertip over the slick warm folds of her sex. "Just like a key differs from a lock."

"And just like a lock is sometimes hard to find..." Ned kept his touch as light as he could, but he gently caressed her, searching for her entrance. She didn't react with pain, but he was glad to discover that she was slick between her legs. He knew there were ways he could make it a bit easier, but he wasn't quite sure what they were, and apparently her wetness would help.

She arched suddenly, biting back a cry as Ned traced the folds at the top of her sex, and he glanced up at her in concern. "I'm sorry. Is that it?"

"Mmm," she moaned softly. "I don't know... it... oh..."

Ned couldn't help it. He touched her in the same place again and she flexed the muscles in her thighs, her brow creasing. She definitely reacted whenever his thumb brushed a smooth button of flesh, her flush deepening, and Ned slowly stroked it with one thumb as he kept exploring her with his other fingers. He was startled when his gently probing fingers encountered a very slick hollow low between her thighs; experimentally he slipped one finger into it and felt no resistance.

Nancy let out a breath that was half-sigh, half-moan. "Ned," she murmured.

"Are you all right, love?"

She whimpered again as Ned gently penetrated her with his finger again, then pulled back. "I think so," she whispered. "Oh, I feel so terribly warm..."

"You are very flushed, beloved."

Then Ned lowered himself to his side beside her, both of them naked, and she turned her head to face him. "Was that it?"

Ned chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, no, darling. But I think I know what to do now, and I need to know what your answer is. If you want me to take precautions."

Her gaze went from his eyes to his lips, then back up again. "What are they?" she murmured.

"It's in that packet," he told her, nodding at the bedside table. "I wear it while we're together and it keeps my seed, so that it doesn't stay inside you."

"And it won't be uncomfortable for you."

"Or for you, as far as I know." Ned gently brushed his fingertips against her warm cheek. "So do you want me to wear it?"

She took a deep breath. "If you don't then I might—a baby..."

"Yes."

She reached up and touched his cheek too. "Okay," she said softly. "No—no precautions."

He moved close to her and kissed her gently. "Okay," he murmured. "You're sure?"

"Yes."

She returned his kiss, and her touch was light as she stroked her fingertips down his back. He embraced her too, savoring the feel of her bare breasts against his chest, the heat that radiated from her skin to his. She felt so soft, her skin so deliciously smooth, and when Ned gently ran the tip of his tongue against her parted lips, then dipped it inside her mouth, she allowed him entrance easily.

Ned broke the kiss and Nancy released a soft sigh. "I love you," she murmured.

"And I love you," he murmured. "I would give you all the stars in the sky if I could, Nancy."

"But then we would have nowhere to live while we are apart," she said softly, and kissed him again.

Their kisses were slow and lingering, and Ned kept his touch light and easy so he wouldn't startle her. Her legs were back together, but when he guided her onto her back, then slipped his knee between her legs, she parted them more easily.

His wife. He urged her to bend her knees and part her legs further for him, and when he broke their kiss she was panting again. "Will you touch me like you were before?" she said softly.

"Did you enjoy it?"

She nodded. "I've never felt anything like it," she said softly. "Oh..."

"Hmm?"

"I just hope it doesn't hurt very much," she said, and her voice was barely loud enough to be a whisper.

"As do I, love."

Ned moved over her, and Nancy wrapped her arm around him, her temple against his shoulder as he supported his weight on one arm and used his other hand to caress and stroke her between her legs. First he found that slick button of flesh again and she tensed beneath him, dampening her reaction to just a soft whimper.

"How does it feel?" he murmured.

Nancy tipped her head back to look into his eyes. "There are—no words," she gasped out. "Oh, _Ned_..."

"So it is all not so painful and unpleasant as you thought," Ned said softly. Slowly he guided his index finger down and found the hollow, her counterpart to his sex. She was slick, but her flesh was still tight about him, and when he guided a second finger between her legs she shivered.

"Mmm... is this... are you, doing it now?" Her hips were trembling faintly, and he realized the slight rhythm was in response to his stroking. "Oh, love."

"It will be like this," he told her softly, then swallowed and reached down. Her hand was limp in his, and she was just blinking up at him again when he brought her hand to his sex.

She gasped out his name, and while she didn't stroke him, she didn't release him either. Ned moved his own hand back to the curls between her thighs, then between, rubbing his thumb against that button of flesh again.

"Why...?"

"When we make love, I will move that part of me that you're touching now, inside you," he told her.

"Oh," she breathed, and when she gently glanced the ball of her thumb against the head of his sex, Ned stifled a groan. She stroked him with a slow tentative brush of her fingers, and her hips trembled when he slipped two fingers between her thighs again, gently probing her to see if she would stretch a little around him.

"Are you ready?"

"I... oh, I think so," she breathed, and Ned moved between her thighs again. He gazed down at her, and that languorous desire that bloomed in her cheeks and left her lashes low was tempered now by the same anxiety he felt. He didn't want to hurt her.

"I love you," he told her, as he leaned down.

"And I love you," she murmured. "Always."

Moving inside her took a bit of maneuvering and he wasn't as assured about it as he had wanted to be, but then he fitted the tip of his sex inside her and she jerked slightly. She had her arm wrapped around him, her hand against his shoulder blades, but her blue eyes were wide, her lips parted. When he could, Ned released his grip on himself and moved his thumb to brush against that sensitive place inside her again, hoping that it would please and distract her from any discomfort.

"Oh," she moaned.

Ned gently brushed his lips against hers. "Okay?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Mmm..."

He kept his gaze on her face, and part of him was still amazed at what was happening. That he was with her, his wife, that she was naked and willing to make love to him, even when they weren't shrouded in darkness and fumbling beneath the covers. That he was inside her for the first time, the first time he had made love to anyone, with the girl he had never truly believed would ever commit herself to him.

He had given her every chance, every opportunity, to put him off. But she hadn't.

He hoped that she was relaxed enough to enjoy their lovemaking; while the hollow of her sex was tight around him, she was wet and warm, and he moved in her with slow, gentle thrusts. When he moved in her a little more deeply she tensed, gasping in her breaths and closing her eyes.

"Love?"

"Mmm." She shook her head, and he could tell she was trying to make her face blank, but that slight line remained between her brows for another moment. Then it passed, and he felt her relax, the angle of her hips tilting slightly.

"Better?"

She nodded. "Yes," she murmured, and sighed softly when he brushed against that sensitive button of flesh again.

"Good."

She opened her eyes. "And you?"

"Nancy..." He leaned down and kissed her again as he moved inside her. "It feels so good, love. So good."

Once he had pushed the entire length of his sex into hers, he took a breath and planted his hands on either side of her so he could lengthen and control his thrusts better, and he found that her gaze was locked to his. "Mmm," she moaned.

"You look so beautiful," he told her, tensing as he drove into her again, doing everything in his power to keep himself under control. Her hips were rocking gently in response to his thrusts, and he felt her move her palm against his back, her nails pressing against his skin. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," she whimpered. Then her panted breaths became audible, and she kept murmuring his name, wrapping her other arm around him too.

He wasn't able to take very long with it. The feel of her, slick and hot and yielding against his sex, was incredible, and he had never felt anything like it. While the expression on her face looked like it almost reflected pain, while she was still gasping and moaning, he sensed that she was pleased by what they were doing, even if she had been nervous about it. As his control finally broke he pressed his full length inside her again, stiffening as he finally spent himself deep inside her, and Nancy shivered underneath him. With a sigh he slumped against her, and Nancy let out a long sigh as she embraced him.

He had never felt anything like it, but in a way nothing had ever felt more natural. Her body was soft and yielding, and he felt her breathing underneath him. She was alive and whole, and perfect and _his_ , his forever. And he loved her so much.

With a soft noise Ned pulled back to look at her face. "I'm sorry, is this hurting you?"

She shook her head. "No," she murmured. "So that is what making love is."

He nodded, and reached up to brush her cheek gently. "I tried my best not to hurt you," he murmured. "Are you all right?"

"I'm okay," she whispered.

"It hurt you," he murmured. "I'm sorry, love."

She gave him a small smile. "It didn't hurt much, and it was only for a moment," she told him. "I'm not sorry. It didn't hurt you, did it?"

He shook his head. "No, darling. You feel so good."

"And you... we might..." She trailed off, searching his eyes, and he was reminded again of the years between them and how young she was, how bold and daring in some ways and so cautious in others.

"No precautions," he agreed softly. "I love you, Nancy. I love you so much."

"And I love you," she murmured, tilting her head up to give him a soft kiss.

"Was it as you thought it would be?"

She smiled at him again. "More," she murmured. "Oh, oh so much more."

\--

When Nancy woke, she was alone in bed. She sighed and stretched, feeling the warmth still lingering in the linens, and when she took a breath, she smelled bacon. She smiled.

Ned always rose early, when the sun was just rising. He dressed and left the apartment house and returned an hour later, bathed, and made her breakfast. She had asked him the second morning what he was doing, and he told her that he went for a run, making sure he kept in top condition. The steep hills in the neighborhood were perfect for it.

She had been charmed that he made her breakfast, though, and he did a good job with it. The bread they had found at a local bakery wasn't as good as the bread Hannah made at home, but it wasn't so bad. He scrambled eggs and cooked them in the bacon grease.

Before she rose, Nancy placed her palm over her lower abdomen. Bess had been able to spend such a short time with Tommy after their marriage, but she had become pregnant anyway. Nancy and Ned would have more time together before he returned to war, but Nancy still didn't know if she wanted to be a mother so soon.

The decision was probably out of her hands now, though, and she had made her peace with it. If Ned's seed had planted in her womb, she would probably move back home so her father and Hannah could help her with the baby. A part of her would miss the work, though. She had learned so many customers' names and what was going on in their lives, and even if they came by for a cup of coffee and a slice of pie, they were often eager to tell her about any strange events or mysteries they had heard about or witnessed, and she was just as happy at the chance to help. Back at home, with a child... she wouldn't have that freedom anymore.

But she would have Ned's son or daughter. _Their_ son or daughter.

With a sigh, Nancy rose and found her robe and slippers. While Ned had been out, she had visited the restroom and washed up. She hadn't realized that making love would leave a trace on her thighs, and when Ned was in her arms afterward she was reluctant to release him just to clean herself up.

When she walked into the main room of the apartment, Ned turned to give her a smile before he gave his attention to the sizzling pan on the stove again, and Nancy felt her heart lift as she returned it. He was her husband now, and she his wife. More than anything else, more than taking the job at the diner or moving out by herself or any of it, this fragile domesticity felt more adult than anything else she had done in her life.

She had slept beside him for the past few nights, in the same bed. She had held him and felt him caress her softly in the dark, although while they made love he usually wanted the bedside lamp on, and it gave her a thrill to watch him as he bent over her.

Ned had nightmares, though, sometimes multiple times a night. When she woke to his murmurings, she held him and whispered soothingly to him, and often he woke and embraced her too, burying his face in her hair. He didn't tell her what he dreamed, but she didn't really need to know. He had told her so much about his experiences since their parting that she could only guess which event was coming back to him now, and holding her seemed to calm him. She wondered what he would do when he was back on the battlefield again, if the nightmares would still stay behind his eyes or if they would be all his waking moments instead.

The previous night had been cooler than usual, and when Nancy peered through the curtains, the sky looked overcast. She sighed, pulling her robe a little tighter. It looked like rain would soon follow. "We might be stuck inside today," she commented.

"It was more chilly than usual this morning," Ned replied. "How are you, darling?"

"Fine," she told him with a smile, when he brought their filled plates over to the small dining table.

Despite how physically intimate they had become, sometimes Nancy was still shy around him. So much of what weighed on her mind was past discussion, like his impending departure, like what would happen when she was back home. Since their reunion in San Francisco, everything had been so fast, but a part of her was still left afraid that this was all they would ever have, that they were lucky to have come this far in the first place.

The way they talked about the last few days of their spontaneous honeymoon, it was as though they were the last days of the earth, as though nothing would exist for them beyond the day he shipped out. In a way it almost felt true. They talked about going by Playland at the Beach and walking through Chinatown again. Edith hadn't felt comfortable with spending much time in the neighborhood, but Nancy and Ned had spent a few hours there earlier in the week.

After breakfast, Ned went to the small bathroom to brush his teeth while Nancy handled the washing-up, since he had been nice enough to make their breakfast. Then Nancy brushed her own teeth and took a quick sponge bath, exiting the bathroom in her robe again, already considering what she was going to wear.

But Ned was sitting on the side of the bed, his shirt off.

Nancy had seen Ned without his shirt a few times before their trip, but it was hard to take her gaze away from his bare chest. His muscles were more sculpted and defined now, but he also carried scars he had been given in the past few years. Being able to gaze at him without feeling ashamed or guilty about it was a novel experience in itself.

"I've thought of a way we might pass some of the time," he said, his dark eyes meeting hers. "That is, if gin rummy doesn't appeal."

She smiled at him. "I'm listening."

When he stood, Nancy's stomach flipped. The desire in his eyes almost felt like warmth against her skin. She hadn't belted her robe again, and she stood waiting for him as he approached her.

In a way, her body belonged to him now. She was both comforted by and a little afraid of it. If he desired to take her to bed, it was his right to do so, and she didn't want to waste any time they could be spending together if that was what he wanted from her. She was also equally sure that it wasn't becoming for her to enjoy what they were doing in bed, or to be eager to experience it again.

But he wanted her, and she wanted him. He asked if she was all right, if she was willing, and all she had to do was nod. The thought of instigating their lovemaking made her feel embarrassed and self-conscious, and she was glad that she likely would never need to.

Ned stood before her and slipped his hand under her robe, to caress her side through the fabric of her nightgown. "I want to kiss every freckle on your beautiful skin," he murmured, his voice low and rough, and then he leaned down and kissed her neck. "Does that sound good, beloved?"

"Mmm," Nancy murmured, and when Ned pushed her robe from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, she warmed at his touch. He gently drew her to the bed, and when he began to strip off her clothes, she didn't protest. She unfastened her bra for him, but let him draw the straps down her shoulders for her. She couldn't help blushing a little when he drew her panties down, when she stood before him naked, without covering herself. He took such delight in looking at her body that she couldn't help enjoying his admiration a little.

Before Nancy moved onto the bed, she ran her palm down to Ned's hip, and he smiled. "Go on," he said softly, and Nancy bit her lip, focusing on what she was doing instead of on Ned's face, as she began to pull his pajama pants down. She couldn't bring herself to take his underwear off too, so she moved onto the bed and shivered a little as she watched him take it off himself and waited for him to join her.

"A little cold, love? Let me take care of that," Ned said with a smile as he sat down beside her, then gently rubbed his palm against her belly. He often started there, and she appreciated it. Even though she felt self-conscious about how she looked naked, even though she saw the desire in his eyes when he saw her this way, she hoped that she pleased him.

"That does feel good," she murmured, and Ned's eyes lit up again. "You're so warm."

"And you feel so good," he murmured. "So soft and smooth. And look at that cute little nose, and all those freckles..."

He kissed her nose, each of her cheeks, the soft hollows behind her ears that made her squirm and giggle quietly, and all the time his palm was still warm on her belly. He kissed his way slowly down her neck, and Nancy brought her hand up to rest on his back. When she drew her fingers up the back of his neck and ran them through his short silky hair, he made a soft pleased sound against her skin.

"You like that?" she said softly.

"Mm-hmm." She kept running her fingers through his hair as he kissed her collarbone, her shoulders, her chest above her breasts, then between. He brought his hand up to cup her left breast as he nuzzled against her right, gently kissing the underside, and then he brushed his lips in a light circle around her nipple.

She whispered his name, drawing her leg up slightly when he kissed the tip of her breast.

"Good?"

Nancy let out a long breath, and when he licked her nipple, she whimpered. "So yes," he murmured, and he kept stroking against her nipple with his tongue as he fondled her other breast. When his other hand stole down to her belly again, then flirted with the edge of the curls between her thighs, Nancy began panting quietly.

"Mmm," Ned murmured, and gave her other nipple a lick before he worked his way down to her hip, planting soft brief kisses along the way. Her knee was bent and her thigh open, and when he kissed her there next, Nancy gasped. She was so sensitive that the light brush of his lips against the tender flesh made her shiver, and Ned worked his way down, kissing her knee, her ankle, before moving back up her other leg.

"Did you like it when I kissed your nipples, darling?"

"Mmm," she murmured. "Yes."

He kissed the left one briefly, fondling the other, still slick from his saliva. "Do you like being with me, like this?"

"Making love, or playing together?"

"Both. Either."

Nancy ran her fingers through his hair again, arching a little when he latched onto her breast and suckled. The sensation set off a pulsing between her thighs, centered in the same place that he often touched when he was making love to her. "Yes," she murmured, tilting her hips. "I do."

"Good," he murmured, then moved to her other breast. "I love being with you like this, Nancy. I love you."

"And I love you," she whispered. "Oh, this feels so good..."

Before they had slept together, she had never before experienced the sensation of her sex becoming slick and tender with arousal. She hadn't understood. Now, though, she was naked and with her husband, and when she began to slowly arch to tilt the angle of her hips, though her cheeks burned she gave in to the impulse. It felt decadent to be sleeping with him at midmorning, but given how brief their time together would be, she had no intention of wasting it.

Ned released her breast, then kissed her nipple once and pulled back with a smile. "Hmm. Think I found all your freckles, love? Or shall I search again?"

Nancy smiled. "Hmm. Do you have any freckles, Ned?"

His smile widened into a grin. "I'd love for you to check," he told her.

He rolled onto his back beside her, and Nancy sat up, then smiled down at him. She suddenly felt nervous, but she took a breath and placed her palm against his belly, and saw his sex twitch a little in response. She was always torn between her curiosity and her modesty when it came to looking at his naked body, especially his sex.

"You can touch me," he told her softly. "It's all right, love."

Nancy didn't realize she was making a soft sound until she shook her head. She stroked his hip, then looked into his dark eyes, searching his face. Ned's skin was naturally darker than hers, and he had no dusting of freckles over his cheeks or nose, but she kissed him there anyway. She kissed his earlobes, his neck, his adam's apple, down to his collarbone. Without looking she guided her hand down, and Ned made a soft almost strangled noise as her fingertips encountered his sex.

"Mmm," Ned murmured. "Gently..."

She obeyed him, swinging her knee over him and kissing a line down his chest as she tentatively stroked the hard firm length of his sex. Ned threaded his fingers through her hair and Nancy knew she was blushing heavily as she did it, but she kissed his nipple too, then the other. She marveled again at how different his body was from hers, and when her nipples brushed against his belly, he murmured something quiet.

"Nancy?"

Nancy brought her head up, her hand pausing on his sex.

"Come here," he murmured, reaching down to grasp her about the waist, and he moved her so she was straddling him. "Mmm. Perfect."

Nancy tucked her hair behind her ears, gazing down at him. He reached for her and she bent over him, still keeping some space between their bodies, and then kissed him. His lips parted under hers and his large hands came up to rest on her back, against her spine.

He kissed her until she relaxed against him, and when she realized that the join of her thighs was resting against his sex, she gasped a little and began to pull back, but Ned guided his hands down and gently urged her back to him. "It's all right," he gasped, then tipped his chin up to kiss her again. "Mmm."

Nancy kissed him back, again and again, and he kept one hand at the small of her back, bringing the other up to thread his fingers through her hair. She was still feeling slick between her thighs, and he was warm and firm and...

Gently she rocked her hips, breaking the kiss to tilt her head and kiss him again, and Ned moved so he could push his own hips up. "I'm sorry," she gasped.

"No, love, don't stop," he murmured, kissing her again. "It's okay."

Nancy shivered when she deliberately angled her hips and rubbed against him, feeling the texture of his hardness against her sensitive inner flesh, and it felt so good that she began to grind against him. She knew that if she let herself think about it she would stop, mortified, and so she just focused on how incredible it felt and how Ned was responding to it. She was waiting for him to grasp her around the waist, roll her onto her back and make love to her.

She had thought making love would hurt, that it would be painful and frightening, quick and maybe violent. Instead Ned was gentle and sweet with her, and the thought of being with him again made her lightheaded with desire for it. Her nipples brushed against his chest as her hips moved against his, and Ned groaned softly, one of his hands cupping her hip. That tender place between her legs brushed against the hardness of his sex, and Nancy moaned with pleasure, pushing herself up a little to give herself a better angle.

"Mmm. Here," he murmured, reaching down. Her hips were still moving, but she slowed down as she felt him angle his sex, and the head of it bumped against the tender flesh between her thighs.

"Ned?" she whispered, confused.

"Just—move down again," he murmured, and Nancy blushed when he touched her, then guided himself to her as she rocked again. She closed her eyes, her mouth opening as she found that she was mounting him, taking him inside her, even though he wasn't on top of her. "Yes. Oh yes, love."

"I don't," she whispered, biting her lip. She was still panting a little, her heart beating hard. He was barely inside her. "I don't know..."

"It's all right. Just move the way you were."

Nancy ducked her head, feeling both nervous and aroused at the thought. When Ned reached up and cupped her cheek, she met his eyes.

"It's okay."

"It's... it's wrong?" she said softly.

He shook his head. "Not unless it's hurting you," he murmured. "I like being able to see you. You're so beautiful... and I can touch you..."

He brought his hand down and touched that sensitive place between her legs, his gaze still locked to hers, and Nancy couldn't help it. She moaned, her hips sinking down, and Ned nodded in encouragement before cupping her breast, too.

"Oh..." She shuddered, taking him deeper inside her.

"Sit up a little," he asked, and she did, feeling very self-conscious. He squeezed her nipple at the same time that he brushed against her sex, and Nancy cried out, then stifled herself quickly.

"Good?"

She nodded, gasping as she rocked down against him again. "Oh... oh, Ned..."

"It's okay," he told her, nodding. "Honey, you feel so good. Move the way that feels good to you; you aren't going to hurt me, and I love being able to see you like this. So beautiful."

After a few more tentative thrusts, he was fully inside her and both of them were panting. Nancy had had no idea that what they were doing was even possible, that he would want to make love this way, or that it would feel good for her. Gradually she began to make her thrusts shorter, faster, and she cried out softly every time he rubbed his thumb against that sensitive place in her sex. "Yes," she whimpered.

Ned was watching her face, which made her all the more self-conscious, but then his lips parted and he began to rub against her faster. Almost without her will, she began to rock against him more quickly, her inner flesh feeling temporarily tighter around his sex with every swipe of his thumb. "Oh," Ned said softly. "Darling..."

She was afraid he didn't approve of what she was doing, but it felt so good that she didn't want to stop, she never wanted to stop. The first time he had made love to her, he hadn't been inside her very long, but since then he had moved inside her more times, his thrusts still gentle. She was—she was _riding_ him, and not gently, but he wasn't reacting in pain.

"This way—it feels good for you..."

"Mmm," Nancy moaned, nodding. Her breasts were trembling with every rock of her hips, and she gasped his name.

"Nancy," Ned gasped out then, his own hips jerking up to hers, and when he stiffened under her, then relaxed, Nancy sighed. The tension that had risen almost unbearably began to crest and subside, and she was shaking. Ned's hands stilled, then dropped to the mattress, and his eyes were closed. Nancy was still trying to catch her breath, and suddenly the feel of him inside her was too intense. With a whimper she pushed back so he slid out of her, then rolled onto her side. The join of her thighs felt incredibly slick and tender, and she closed her eyes. She didn't know how she felt. She was embarrassed and she felt oversensitive and almost a little sad, and she didn't understand why.

After a moment, she felt the mattress move as Ned shifted. "Honey," he murmured, and his voice sounded apologetic. Nancy opened her eyes, afraid that she would see pity or disgust on his face. Instead she saw sympathy.

"I didn't know."

"Didn't know?"

He reached over and cupped her cheek. "It gives you pleasure when we make love."

"Yes," she said softly. "I told you..."

"No..." Ned rolled onto his own side, moving closer to her. "If I just had the self-control..."

Nancy shook her head a little. "I don't understand," she murmured.

"I think you might have been getting close to release."

Nancy just kept gazing at him. She didn't know what he was talking about, but from the way he was saying it, she had a feeling it was marital. Something she had done wrong. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

"No. No, love, I'm sorry. When we were together just now, did you feel—tense? Like you..." He trailed off, making a frustrated sound. "I don't know how it would feel for you."

"What is 'it'?" Nancy asked, frustrated.

"Release. Like when I—when I spend my seed. I'm aroused and making love to you gives me so much pleasure, and I want to have my release. I didn't know something like that could happen for you too. I thought your—that you were wet just so making love wouldn't hurt you."

She looked down. "I don't know," she said softly. "I've never felt anything like making love with you feels."

"Did you want it to keep going?"

Nancy made a soft sound. "Yes," she breathed.

He pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry. Next time... I'll be better next time."

Nancy rested her forehead against his shoulder. "I still don't understand," she whispered. "Good? I... I enjoyed what we were doing—even though I thought it was..."

"Improper," Ned murmured, and kissed the crown of her head. "And even if it was, I don't care, love. I loved being able to see you and touch you. No, I mean that... well, being with you feels so good that taking a while can be hard. It's like... I hadn't eaten cake since I was on the front. If someone placed a slice of my mother's coconut cake in front of me, I would be so overcome with hunger that I would probably devour it before I could even taste it. When we're together the feel of you is so incredible that I... I'm learning how to savor it."

"Oh," she said softly.

"Only because you enjoy it." He kissed her hair again. "If it was unpleasant or uncomfortable for you—and I feared it would be, then I would make it quick. But because you like it too, and I suppose for you that your desire is slower than mine, I'll take my time with you. And next time, no touching my member."

She smiled quickly against his skin. "You said it was all right," she pointed out softly.

"I hadn't realized how utterly bewitching your touch would be," he murmured.

They cleaned up and dressed, then braved the cooler weather to explore more of the city. Nancy loved any time they spent at the beach, especially with Ned beside her, when he laced his fingers through hers or wrapped his arm around her. The endless crash of the waves felt like the loneliness she would feel once he was gone again, and being able to turn and see his face—she wanted that memory instead. She wanted every second, every glance, every embrace in her memory.

Knowing what he wanted to do with her later made Nancy feel a little anxious, because she didn't understand what he meant by "release." She understood that for him, part of the act involved spending his seed inside her, but she didn't understand how anything similar would happen for her.

After a candlelit dinner, after taking a stroll through the local neighborhood in the moonlight, they returned to the apartment house together. Nancy freshened up and put on her pink nightgown, checking her reflection one last time before she went to their bed.

_Lie on your back and try to relax._ Nancy smiled as she thought of that advice. Their first time together had been awkward for her, and she couldn't say that she was entirely comfortable with their lovemaking yet, but it hadn't been nearly what she had thought it would be. It had felt so good, other than some brief pain that she didn't experience anymore, and she dreaded his leaving and the prospect of sleeping alone in her bed again. She dreaded not sharing that physical intimacy with him once he was gone, when she had believed before their marriage that it might just be something she would have to learn to endure if she wished to be close to him.

When he flipped on the bedside lamp, then joined her in bed, Nancy's gaze was locked to him. She understood now that soft inward look Bess sometimes wore when she thought about Tommy. She understood what Ned had meant when he had told her that what they were doing was love, and there was nothing wrong with it, not after they were married, not if it pleased both of them. She had seen such bliss on Ned's face when he had been making love to her. She had thought she could only feel an echo of it.

"Beloved," Ned murmured. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"I think you love me as much as I love you," she murmured, and her heart rose when he rested his palm against her stomach, through the thin fabric of her gown. "I hope you do. And there is no measuring it, no number I could put to it. I wish you were always by my side."

He nodded, his brown eyes glowing in the dim lamplight. "I would not have you follow me, when I go back," he murmured. "But after. Oh, after, I can't imagine that my eyes will ever have their fill of you again, love."

She gave him a small smile, her eyes pricking a little with her tears. "I feel the same way," she murmured. "I feel like I can never talk to you long enough. I could never spend long enough in your arms to be satisfied."

He nodded, then leaned down and kissed her. "I need to know," he murmured. "When we're making love, is it all of it that makes you feel so good? Or is it just when I move myself inside you, or just when I touch you with my fingers?"

Nancy bit her lip. "I like all of it," she whispered. "But I think it's more when you touch me."

Ned nodded. "Good," he murmured.

"Good?"

"I like pleasing you," he told her. "But it will be easier for me if I can touch you first, and then move inside you when you're close to finishing."

Nancy knew her face was warm. She understood so little about lovemaking. "Okay," she whispered, and when Ned kissed her, reaching for the hem of her gown, she maneuvered to make it easier for him.

He didn't touch her immediately. He settled on top of her when they were both naked, making out with her, and she relaxed. Making love this way was familiar to her, and she liked it much better when he was in control and she could just let him do as he wished. He kissed her deeply, his tongue in her mouth, and then he made a soft noise as she opened her legs and jerked. When he moved on top of her, his hard sex was rubbing between her legs, against that sensitive place.

He pushed back, rolling onto his side, and Nancy gasped and made a single whimpered protest. When he cupped his hand between her thighs, then gently began to stroke her, she relaxed against the mattress again.

"Good?"

"Yes," she breathed. "Oh yes, love."

Ned watched her face as he caressed her, but Nancy felt so self-conscious that she looked away. Being on top of him while they made love had felt improper, and this did too. She understood now that his fingers being inside her wasn't the same as true lovemaking, even though she had been so inexperienced the first time that she hadn't known it wasn't. She hadn't known what she was feeling. She hadn't even fully understood that he would put a part of himself inside her, stroking so very deep inside her, when they were making love.

"Darling," he said softly. "Look at me."

Nancy turned to look at him, her lips parting, and she drew the knee opposite him up, toward her. Ned smiled at her, and his dark eyes were glowing. "Tell me if it feels good."

Nancy nodded. "Oh, yes," she gasped. "Yes."

"Do you need softer? Or a bit more..."

Nancy gasped in another breath, her fingers curling into a fist. Kissing him had felt good, and it had started that slow gentle rise in her, the one she didn't yet understand. His first brush between her legs had been pleasant; now, though, she was beginning to feel—she wasn't sure. It was like a tension, a need, was rising in her. It grew more intense with every swipe of his fingers. "I don't know," she panted, searching his eyes.

"Then... just tell me if it isn't pleasing you," he suggested, then moved over her and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. "I love you."

"I love you too," she gasped, and tilted the angle of her hips.

Ned kept his thumb stroking against her as his fingers slipped down, and Nancy had to swallow her cry when he moved them inside her. "It's all right," Ned murmured. "Good?"

"Mmm... yes," she murmured. "Oh..."

Ned kissed her again. "You're so beautiful, and I love you so much," he murmured. "I wish I knew how long... can you tell me when..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I suppose you won't really know."

Nancy's brow knit as she looked up at him. She couldn't seem to stop panting. "Oh," she moaned, and then grasped at him, her hand finding his shoulder.

He smiled again. "I know," he said softly.

Gradually he worked the length of two fingers inside her, and when he stopped touching that sensitive place at the top of her sex, then brushed against it again, Nancy jerked and cried out. He nuzzled against her breasts, kissing and stroking each of her nipples with his tongue, and the entire time that tension just kept rising until she thought she couldn't bear another moment of it. But she didn't know what to do. She kept tilting the angle of her hips, trying to grind against him.

Ned breathed something, and Nancy gently pressed her hand against his back as she panted another breath. "Ned," she whimpered, and she was so afraid of disappointing him. "I... _please_..."

"Now?"

"Mmm," she moaned. "I can't... _oh_ , oh my..."

Ned moved between her legs, and when she realized that he was about to slip inside her she arched her back, bringing her knees up to cradle his hips between her thighs. He moved his fingers out of her but he kept stroking the top of her sex, and then he pressed inside her.

He let out a low pleased groan and Nancy sobbed, her hips jerking with every stroke of his thumb. "Oh, Nancy," he groaned, his voice low and rough. "You feel so good, love."

She whimpered his name, and when she wanted him to go faster, she found herself wrapping her legs up around his waist. Then she realized what she was doing and gasped. "Sorry, I'm sorry," she murmured, trying to make herself relax, but it felt so good.

"No, love, don't, don't stop," he said, and his voice was almost a growl. She flushed as she wrapped her legs around him again, using the leverage to tilt her hips and to encourage his thrusts, and he responded with another pleased groan. "Yes... so good..."

She had hoped that when he slipped inside her, the pressure would diminish, but it didn't. She was trying to be polite and well-mannered, but then Ned gazed down at her. He filled her so perfectly, and he was moving in her rapidly, and even that felt like it only inflamed her more.

"Yes," he groaned. "Oh yes, love. Feel it with me, show me..."

Her heels were at the small of his back, and then they slipped and Nancy cried out his name loudly as his angle inside her changed. She thought she would die at how good it felt.

"Yes, _yes_..."

Nancy tipped her head back, sobbing, unable to control her body's reaction to his any longer. Maybe he would tell her she shouldn't, but oh it felt so, so good to thrust her hips up to meet his, to feel the hard hot length of him between her thighs. To feel him love her. When the tension broke, even the breaking was its own pleasure, and she was both terrified and exhilarated by it. She wasn't just in Ned's control; she was out of her own control.

She didn't know how long they were locked that way, days or hours or mere endless moments. He moved in her with greater speed and roughness than he had before, and she was delirious at the pleasure of it. When he stiffened over her, releasing a hoarse cry, Nancy shuddered and looked up at him, glad that he had left the lamp on so she could look into his face. His release. He had just left his seed within her womb, for the second time that day.

They were both panting, their skin damp with sweat, when he slumped against her. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist, and she embraced him too, her heart beating so hard she could feel it trembling through her, and she could feel his heart pounding too.

She felt exhausted, even though he had done almost all the work in their lovemaking, but she felt a lingering pleasure and satisfaction too, all the way into her bones, into her blood. She didn't want to move. She never wanted to let him go. She wanted to sleep with him in her arms. Oh, it was incredible, both that she could experience such pleasure and that she never had before, that she could find it with him and in his embrace.

Ned let out a soft groan, then a sigh. "Mmm," he murmured, turning his head toward her; his cheek was on the pillow. "Nancy."

"Ned," she sighed, bringing her hand up to stroke over his hair, and he kissed her cheek.

"How did it feel?" he whispered.

"There is nothing else," she whispered back. "No comparison. It was..." She bit her lip, considering what she was about to say.

He pulled back to look into her eyes, then smiled at her. "We have been practicing, love," he pointed out. "We've been learning. But that..."

"It was perfect," she murmured, and stroked his hair again. "Before... it felt good, and I enjoyed it, but tonight..."

"It was incredible," he agreed. "I'm so glad I could share that with you."

She smiled at him. "Whether it was proper or not," she whispered, and she knew she was flushing.

"If that was improper, love, I would still gladly take it."

He leaned down and kissed her again, and she relaxed, opening her legs. "As would I," she murmured.

\--

Nancy was sleeping, finally. Ned wasn't. He couldn't.

His wife was naked and wrapped tight around him, embracing him with her face against his chest, their legs entwined. He felt her breathe and closed his eyes, trying to lock it into his memory, to shut out his anxiety and focus only on how good it felt to have her so close to him. He nuzzled gently against her hair, feeling the pulse of her blood under her skin, against his palm.

It was so close. It was too close. Only hours, now.

He didn't want to let her go. On the other nights, when their lovemaking was finished, she had slipped her clothes back on and he had as well. Tonight, though, they had clung together even after, and her flesh was so smooth and warm. He felt such fathomless love for her.

A part of him had hoped that she would conceive; a part of him still hoped that she had, that some piece of them both would grow inside her. But just as he had felt that swearing to care for her and cherish her for the rest of their lives had been—

He kissed her scalp gently. Not premature. He would love her and cherish her for the rest of their lives. But he hated that he wouldn't be with her from their wedding day forward. And he hated that if she did find herself carrying their child, he wouldn't be there for it, not unless the war ended soon. He wanted to see her glow, to see her belly round as their child grew in her womb. He wanted to make a home with her, to be a husband and father. He didn't want her to be raising their child alone.

But these might be the last moments he would ever spend with her. This might be their only chance. If she had asked him to use protection, he would have; she might be nervous, but she had agreed. She had agreed to marry him, to make love with him, even if their marriage was truly the span of these dwindled days.

_Please_ , he prayed. _Please, don't let this be the end. But if it is, if this is the last time I will ever hold her like this, thank you for letting me have it._

No matter how much longer he lived, he didn't regret it. But he didn't want her to be miserable in his absence, and he hated the thought of her back in River Heights, growing depressed when there were no more letters, as she waited for the news, and then after. A pair of rings which bound her to a dead man; a scar on her arm commemorating their union, marking the blood he had given her. She might never love anyone else, not for the rest of her life, not after she lost him. He knew he would never love anyone else. Never like this. Never like her.

He listened to her breathe and felt his pulse match hers, slowed his breathing to match hers too. He didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to miss a single moment of the ones remaining to them.

_We will be together again. In this life or the next._

His mood had only grown darker when he woke, and Nancy's body was trembling slightly against his. She wasn't cold. She was sniffling, stifling her tears, but he could feel them on his skin.

It was the only morning he didn't leave her, rising early to run and then make her breakfast. Instead they held each other, and the love they made began slowly and became desperate. She kept staring into his eyes, grasping his shoulder blades, her legs wrapped around him, and he searched her blue eyes until she was overcome by her tears.

She was departing before he did. She had suggested changing her flight to a later one, but he knew how difficult it would be, and so he had told her it was all right. Surely her father and friends were missing her. She needed to go home, and he would kiss her goodbye before she boarded the plane. His leave would only last a few hours after.

The morning raced by in a way their idle time on the field never did. He kept thinking of things he wanted to tell her, that he needed to let her know, but they had to pack and dress, had to eat, even though he had never had less appetite for it.

Then it was time to depart.

Around them, on the streets of the city, life went on as usual. He heard people laughing, calling to each other, selling newspapers and souvenirs. Women headed to markets to do their shopping. There were other living breathing people around them who weren't bowed under the weight of their next goodbye. He couldn't even imagine it. Ned held her hand, and Nancy kept lifting a handkerchief to dab at her cheeks.

It felt impossible, utterly impossible, to rise and walk into the airport with her, but he managed it somehow. He had his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and for a brief moment, it was more than tempting; it was almost impossible to ignore. But if he bought or begged a ticket, if he found a way to go home with her, they would find him. He would be punished, branded a coward. And if she was hurt somehow as a result, if his desertion managed to hurt those he loved because he hadn't fought to protect them, he would never forgive himself for it.

He wanted to be with her, though, with such intensity that it nearly choked him.

Ned wore his uniform, and both he and Nancy were wearing their wedding rings, so anyone at a glance could see what was happening. They sat together in the waiting area, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and when he saw the flight crew make its way to the plane, his stomach gave an unpleasant lurch.

"I won't tell you goodbye," he said softly. "I will see you again, love. I know I will."

She turned to look into his eyes, her own brimming with tears. "I thought I missed you before," she whispered. "Oh, Ned. I need you to come home to me. I need you so much."

He placed his hand over hers. "And I need you too," he said, searching her eyes. "If you—if there's a baby, please—my parents..."

She nodded. "I'll still go to see them," she murmured. "No matter what. Ned, please, _please_ write to me. I need to hear from you. I need to know you're—all right."

He nodded. "Maybe we'll be somewhere that it will be more reliable," he murmured. "Nancy..."

She gazed into his eyes, but he was speechless. If only he had another week, another month with her, but in his heart of hearts he knew that the rest of his life was the only real satisfaction, and he couldn't have it.

He cupped her cheek, stroking it gently. Then she reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his, so the pale scars on their forearms touched.

"No matter what," she said softly. "You're taking a part of me with you. No matter what, a part of you is with me. And when this is all over, my beloved, come home to me. Because you're not just taking my blood with you. You have my heart, now. And it won't beat until we're together again."

He brushed his thumb gently against her lips, giving her a small smile. "But, love, know that you have mine," he murmured. "I know it's the lesser, but I'll never take it back. My heart is always with you. My home is always with you."

She leaned forward and gave him a gentle, brief kiss, just as the stewardess announced that her flight would begin boarding. "I love you more than I could ever say," she whispered. "Please, Ned..."

He rose and pulled her into his arms, embracing her tight. "I love you," he whispered against the crown of her head. "Thank you for giving me this."

Nancy gasped in a breath and tipped her head back, gazing fiercely up at him, her eyes streaming. "Don't," she murmured, and her voice was shaking. " _Don't._ This is the _beginning,_ Ned. Not..."

When she trailed off, he leaned down and gave her another gentle kiss. "Not goodbye," he whispered against her lips.

"Never goodbye."

"I love you."

"And I will always, always love you."

He walked with her up to the line he wasn't allowed to cross, carrying her small bag for her, then pulled her over to the side to hold her again as the other passengers filed toward the plane. One last memory. One last chance. "Don't forget me," he whispered.

Nancy gasped out a sob. "Never," she whimpered. "How could I ever."

He kissed her cheek and she turned to press her lips to his in a long desperate kiss; he could taste the salt of her tears in it, and it took all he had not to drop to his own knees and cling to her. The kiss lingered until they broke it, reluctantly.

"Nancy," he said softly. "My love, my only. Take care of my heart."

"And you take care of mine," she replied, searching his eyes. "Bring it back home safe."

She held his hand, then squeezed it firmly before she took a deep breath and picked up her bag. The stewardess was waiting, a small smile on her face, and Nancy gave Ned one last kiss on the cheek before she walked to the plane. She paused at the door, looking back at him, and he could feel it ending, he hoped not for good. Already he missed her so much that the ache was palpable.

_Remember me._

Then she turned and the stewardess stepped on behind her, and Nancy was gone. His wife.

He watched her plane the entire time, breathing a prayer that she would make it home safe; he watched until the craft was out of sight and the airport staff told him he would need to go back inside. He looked down at his ring, then clenched his fingers into a fist.

He would be shipping out in a few hours. Without her, a part of him felt like he was already gone. He couldn't believe how hollow he felt now.

His index finger traced the faded line of the scar on his forearm. He could still taste her tears on his lips.

_Please. Please, make those the last._ _Make this the last time I will ever have to say goodbye to her._


	10. Chapter 10

_Ned... my husband, love of my life. My dearest._

_I fall asleep missing you with every fiber of my being. I fall asleep missing you so much that I ache for you—for your kiss, for the feel of your hand against mine, the brush of your lips against my skin. My heart feels quieter without yours to match to it. My bed feels so cold and empty without you to warm it, and I have taken to sleeping with a pillow beside me, but oh, it is no substitute. None at all._

_For a handful of seconds when I wake, sometimes a dream of you lingers, and before I open my eyes it's as though you have only just left—or, better, that soon you will return from your morning run and I will find you in the kitchen making us breakfast. Sometimes the sensation is so strong that for an instant the scent of bacon lingers in the air, before I realize that it's only my own fancy._

_I went to see your mother on my return, and I could see the question in her eyes but she never asked and I never told her. Oh, I have told your parents and my father that on your return, you and I plan on having a formal ceremony at your parents' church—I thought you would want that, and Mapleton isn't too far from River Heights. She was excited, I could tell; a part of me wondered if somehow she could see it on me, if she could sense that the white dress she said would look so darling on me... but maybe I will be telling her the truth soon; maybe I will be telling all of them the truth soon. I don't know yet._

_I thought I knew what it was to miss you. I had no idea, my love. I understood so little then._

_No matter what, I am glad we were able to have our time together, but Ned... how is it that I feel so close to you even now, as though some intangible part of me could reach through the distance between us and pull you home? Maybe it is because I wish it so, so much. I had believed myself a whole person, but when I met you those years ago, from that moment, I suppose that in a way I truly was. I take my hands, my fingertips, for granted; I take my sight, my next heartbeat, my next breath for granted, and I took your presence in my life for granted. Slowly you became so indispensable to me, like fingers slowly entwined. How is it that we can fit like those intertwined fingers, my love? How is it—I am still awestruck when I think of how we fit together. Flesh of your flesh._

_I must stop. I was always shocked when Bess would write such... such words to Tommy, and now I find myself doing the same. I thought her foolish, silly, lovestruck. Now I am as she was, as she still is. When I think of you, all else seems to fall away. I don't care how foolish or silly it may seem to anyone else. I know how much I love you, and all else pales in comparison._

_It feels like a fever in me, and I grow delirious with it. I catch myself daydreaming of you. I long for you in a way I've only rarely had to long for air, but it feels just as necessary._

_I know you said you would not have me follow you, and I will not, I promise. But, love, if I could, for just five minutes with you... oh, a part of me wishes that you_ could _feel it, how desperately I wish I could have that chance, and another hopes that you don't. I wouldn't wish this loneliness on anyone, but I brought it on myself, and I would gladly choose it again. I could never regret the time I had with you. Never._

_We have had our honeymoon, my love, and we will have another when you are home, and then our life together can begin. Our honeymoon. I told you once that we would live together among the stars when we were apart, and that life I imagined for us on the moon, it was nothing like what we had in San Francisco—but it was more, my love. To spend every day and night of my life with you... it is not everything I wish, but it is so much._

_I adore you, my husband. Even now I feel my heart beat in the cage of your ribs, and I pray you can feel your own in the safety of mine. I pray you safe and well. I pray you happy and whole, and most of all I pray that this separation will be much shorter than the last. I will find my strength in your arms; until then I use it all to wait for you._

_Please, Ned. Come to me. Come home to me as soon as you can._

_With all my love,_

_your devoted wife,_

_Nancy_

_\--_

_Nancy, my one, my only. My beautiful wife._

_I understand exactly what you mean. The perfection in how our bodies fit together and how intense the pleasure was, the pleasure that we were able to share. The way we knit together, how sometimes I could almost say what was on your lips at the same time you did. The wedding band you put on my finger is in contact with my skin always, every day; is it in contact with yours?_

_It is so hard to put my thoughts together. It was so hard to come back after the delight of an entire week in your arms, to sleep beside you and hold you, and love you as I always wished I could—and even before that, to be with you so often. Just the sight of you was like the first sip of water after a year of thirst. I feel the loss of you like an ache. I feel every inch of the distance between us, and it is intolerable. I would not take back our marriage either, but before, I was convinced that I could never miss you more, could never desire or long for you more. I did not know how mistaken I was. When I wake sometimes it is to the sound of your laughter, and for a moment all this, all that's around me, is less real than the memory of you._

_If sheer will could bring me back to you, you would not need lift a finger, my love. I would be beside you before your next breath, and this time, nothing would make me leave your side. Save the only knowledge that brought me back here. If in some way I can stand between you and the danger we're fighting here, if my being here keeps you safe—and, love, I must believe that it does. That alone is the only reason I remain, and why as much as it pains me, until I know you and all the other people I love are safe, I cannot fully begrudge being here. I may despise the stress and fear, the exhaustion, the emptiness—but your heart beats between my ribs, my darling, and I have sworn to protect it and bring it home._

_My home is you, Nancy Drew Nickerson. Always and ever you. Being without you is indeed like living without a hand, an eye—but it's more than that. I could live without a part of me much more easily than I could live with the knowledge that I will never be with you again._

_I will be with you, my love. When I sleep, know that I want nothing more than to wake in your arms, to see your sweet lovely face smiling up into mine when I open my eyes. And when we are together again, my sweet, we shall spend that week together rediscovering all the joy and pleasure that being together can give us._

_Being with you felt like a dream, the most enchanting dream I have ever experienced, and now when I close my eyes and find the image of you captured in my mind's eye, that image of my sweet loving wife, I dread the waking because it means leaving you all over again._

_I want to have children with you, my love, as many as you wish or as few. Even now, our son or daughter might be growing inside you, and while it might be selfish—I wish I were there to see it, to be with you. I want to be with you no matter what, but when I imagine that I could miss one of the most important events of my life, that I might have left you to have our child without me, I grieve. I would not want to miss a single second. That first laugh, the first blink of those blue eyes._

_I know you said you would, but even if we were not given that gift—my parents, please, please talk to them, please let them help you if they can. You are their daughter-in-law, after all. You are their child too. While I'm gone, please... I know you don't wish to have our marriage known, and nor do I while we are parted this way, but they love you and they always have. You are my beloved, my promised, and you always will be. I'm glad you have been to see them already._

_It is so strange, love. I feel like a coward, as though I am lesser, for having left you. I would feel like a coward if I had stayed. I could not win, and so I am miserable without you, praying that every moment passes like two, every hour like five._

_Tell me everything, Nancy. Tell me how it is there now so I can imagine it. I have not seen River Heights and Mapleton for so long. I want to see you there. Now, in the photographs I have of you from San Francisco, I see you smiling, cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling. I can almost hear the sea and your laughter, always your laughter._

_I love you, Nancy. I love you beyond and past everything. I will love you for every day of my life, and all that I have beyond it. I will be with you again, I swear it. Stay safe and I will come back to you. I could not bear the alternative._

_I will write again soon, as soon as I can, but in the meantime_

_I will remain, always and ever your loving husband,_

_Ned_

_\--_

Nancy had memorized them all—the letters he had written to her, the ones that had actually made it to her; the letters he had given her when they had reunited in San Francisco, the ones he hadn't ever actually sent. Even though she knew that she shouldn't expect it, Nancy couldn't help it. She checked the mail every day. Ned's latest letter had come two days earlier, and still she shuffled through the envelopes, her heart rising and then sinking when she realized that no envelope bearing his handwriting was among them.

The day before, her cycle had begun. It was heavier than usual, and Nancy had agonized over it for a few hours before she had called Mrs. Nickerson and asked if she might be able to come to Mapleton and see her after the dinner shift at the diner. Going back to work had been a partial blessing; it gave Nancy something to do other than miss her husband quite so desperately.

Even calling him that, even though it was in the privacy of her own head, felt so unreal and so incredible. She wore the wedding band he had given her on the same chain necklace she always wore, tucked under the collar of her dresses, against her skin. Close to her heart.

Once Nancy had made the trip to Mapleton, she had asked to speak to Mrs. Nickerson alone. It had taken Nancy a while to work up the courage to talk about it, but she felt desperate for the answer. She feared she already knew it, but she had been so naive at just the act of lovemaking that she didn't know if what she knew was wrong.

"If a woman is married," Nancy had asked, her gaze on her hands in her lap, "and she has her cycle three weeks later... she will not have a baby, will she?"

Edith made a soft sound, and Nancy swallowed, then glanced up at her. The older woman's eyes were gleaming faintly. "Oh," she said softly. "Oh, Nancy, I'm sorry."

So what she had thought was right. She wasn't pregnant.

The relief and sadness came over her at once. Ned hadn't wanted to miss seeing their child, and now he wouldn't. Now she could keep working; now their marriage could remain a secret until he returned home. She would not have to raise their child alone.

But if he didn't return, if she had seen him for the last time, then their last chance had passed. They would not have another. She could not present him with a child on his return, and if he never returned to her, she would have no piece of him to keep.

Then the relief was swept away by the sadness and guilt she felt, and Nancy felt tears prick at her own eyes, and then Edith had wrapped her in a hug. "I'm sorry," Nancy whispered, and she didn't know why she was saying it. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Edith murmured, patting Nancy's back. "It was too much to hope for, I know. But I did..." She sighed.

After they had both dried their tears, Nancy sat back and looked into Edith's expectant eyes. "So the dress you bought right before I came back home—"

Nancy nodded. "Yes. I wore it that Monday. Oh, I have some pictures; I didn't think to bring them with me. But I will."

Edith smiled at her. "Why didn't you tell me, Nancy?"

Nancy shook her head, looking down at her hands again. "I didn't want you or Mr. Nickerson or my father to be disappointed in us and what we did," she murmured. "To think that we did this on the spur of the moment, because we knew it—it might be our only chance." Nancy choked up a little. "And Ned... he told me that he would wait for me, that he would marry me when he returned, that it... he didn't like that he would be swearing to spend the rest of his life with me, and then he would be going back. And I told him that I didn't want to wait. If we had another week together or eighty years together, I didn't want to wait."

Edith sniffled. "It was a hard choice," she said softly. "I know it must have been. But I knew that the two of you..."

Nancy smiled and looked down. "I love him so much," she said softly. "And if we—if there had been a baby, we were going to tell everyone. He made me promise to come to you and Mr. Nickerson, to let you help me."

"And we would have. We will," Edith said. "You're our daughter-in-law, after all. I know he was so very happy to be back, to see both of us, but the way he looks at you, the way he always has felt about you. He cares for you very deeply, dear, but I suppose you know that."

Nancy smiled. "I do now," she said. "He... he didn't really tell me until just before he was leaving, when he received his draft letter. And I didn't realize how I felt about him until then, either. So much has changed, though. So very much."

Edith nodded. "You were still quite young, when he left," she said. "And you are young now, but you've grown up a lot. You're a fine young woman. Since Ned told James and I how he felt about you, I've been hoping that you felt the same way. Dear, please know that if you ever need anything, anything at all, that you can come to us."

Nancy nodded. "I will."

Edith's lips turned up faintly. "I suppose in a way it's for the best," she said, looking away. "I feel terrible for those women left having to find a way to provide for their babies with their men gone to war. But if by some chance, you miss your cycle next month, it could be; I've heard of it happening before, rarely. If you were, if you are, then I would—well, I would not insist that you move in with James and I, but it would be difficult. He's my baby, Nancy. He's my only baby. And to know that he is gone again, that too many women I know have been given that terrible news..."

Nancy shook her head, distressed as Edith's voice began to break, and she wrapped her arms around her mother-in-law again. "He will come back," Nancy said, closing her eyes as she murmured the words. "He will. He has too much to do, too much of his life to live. He will. He has to."

Edith sniffled. "I pray every night that you're right," she murmured. "Every hour when I hear the clock chime, every morning when I wake. That soon he will walk back through that door, and then you and he will find a nice place to settle down together. And then, in a few years, I will have grandchildren to spoil and care for."

Nancy's heart skipped a beat at that thought. "Yes," she murmured. "In a few years."

But Nancy shook herself a little, coming back to reality as she looked down at the mail clutched in her hand. Her dreams centered on seeing him again, on being with him again. The idea of them living together, while sweet, was just as strange as that pale house on the moon they had described to each other so many times. It was a state between wakefulness and sleep, in that faint twilight, and just as insubstantial.

The reality of it, Nancy was sure, would be far beyond anything she had ever dreamed or hoped to find.

Nancy had just shouldered out of her coat and taken off her gloves when she heard a brisk knock at the door. Her father had cautioned her to be wary of suspicious characters, as she lived in an apartment house without a man to protect her, but nearly every unexpected knock was a neighbor asking to borrow or return something, or a traveling salesman too old to have been drafted. Nancy often took pity on them, buying what little she could with her own money. A few times she had been happy to open the door and find someone who had a small puzzle for her to help them solve, like a misplaced will or a missing person.

The man standing at the door when Nancy opened it didn't have that faint aura of desperation and hunger shared by most of the traveling salesmen. He wore a smart dark suit, and he held his hat in his hand.

"Good afternoon. Mrs. Edmund Nickerson?"

Nancy flushed immediately, her hand rising to instinctually cover the wedding band beneath the collar of her shirt. "My name is Nancy Drew," she replied.

"And you were married in San Francisco last month," he replied easily, lifting his hat a little. "May I come in?"

Stunned, Nancy took a step back and wordlessly gestured for him to enter. Other than she and Ned, only Edith knew about their marriage; they had seen people after their wedding ceremony in San Francisco, had been seen wearing their wedding rings, but Nancy couldn't imagine that this man had seen them there. Once he had wiped his feet and come inside, Nancy walked over to the table and sat down, and he hesitated for a second before sitting down opposite her.

"M—How would you prefer I address you?"

Nancy had felt a thread of pleasure at hearing herself addressed by her married name, but George might come in soon, and besides, to have this man address her that way when her father didn't even know she was married, when it still felt so new, so secret and private... she didn't like that. "Miss Drew would be fine."

"Miss Drew, then. You most likely recall the code Captain Morrow brought you to study two months ago?"

Nancy didn't respond immediately. Instead she studied his face, the close-cropped hair, the faint shadow of stubble that lined his jaw, his clear green eyes. "Might I ask how I should address you?"

She saw a flicker cross his expression, some mild amusement, before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather flip wallet. "Agent King, miss."

Nancy gave the identification he showed her longer than a cursory glance, hoping she was making her point. "I did speak to Captain Morrow," she said. "As to anything we discussed..."

Agent King smiled. "You do know that your refusal to discuss it is as good as admitting it," he pointed out.

Nancy sat back and crossed her arms. "You'll pardon me for my caution," she said.

"I will," he said with a nod, sitting back himself. "And I will say this: you came _very_ close to cracking it. When he passed it along, we were able to figure it out from your notes and decode the original message. Which means I'm here to give you a very unique offer, Miss Drew.

"You're talented. We need someone like you. We will pass along messages, and we would appreciate your help in discovering what they mean.

"I doubt I need to tell you this, but your assistance would be a help to the war effort. In some small way, you would be doing your part to help us win, and bring your new husband home sooner."

Agent King leaned forward. "Have I piqued your interest?"

\--

_Ned, my love. Heart of my heart._

_The ring you put on my finger rests always against my skin. I hated to take it off, but I knew I had to; I went to the lavatory on the plane to do it so no one would see me, and I cried almost the entire flight. I only stopped and freshened myself up so no one would be concerned when they picked me up, although doubtless they could tell my spirits were low from having left you. They still are. But I carry your ring with me on a necklace, the same one I wore the other ring on before, and it rests always near my heart._

_My love, it is almost certain now. I will not be a mother in a few months, and you will not return to find yourself an expectant or new father._

_I am so sorry to write that. I was unsure, and so I had to speak to your mother; I could not share something so very personal with Hannah, and I wasn't sure who else I could ask. But she has confirmed it, and now she knows, but she had already suspected, just as I thought. She is grieved that she is not a grandmother, and I am grieved that I am not a mother, and I am grieved that I am relieved for it._

_That small relief I feel is from knowing that, if we are blessed that way, that we will share it. That you will be here and sleeping beside me when I feel the baby's first kick in my belly, that you will be with me when it is time for us to go to the hospital and meet our child for the first time. For I need you, my love. I would need you by my side, or I would surely dissolve into panic. You have always been my steadiness, my constant, and you would make an incredible father. And you, love, you are my husband even as you are parted from me, at the other end of the earth, but our child would need you here even more than I do now._

_Even so, I do grieve. During our week together I couldn't help but imagine it, and even though it scared me, I was curious. To be your wife; to be mother of your child as well. We have shared so much with each other, so much that we have shared with no one else, and I would have been happy to find that this was another experience we would share._

_But I believe that we will, my love. It just wasn't the right time yet, but when you return, we will._

_I will leave you with that, beloved. You must return to me, so I can hold our beautiful daughter or handsome son in my arms. I know that your mother will be happy, maybe even nearly as happy as we will be._

_You ask me to tell you everything, all about my day, and there is one thing I wish I could tell you, but it will just have to keep until your return. I will tell you in person, when we are tucked up warm and happy together in our bed. I will tell you between stolen kisses and freely given kisses._

_Otherwise I will tell you this: my feet ache, I'm exhausted, and last night I nodded off while sitting on the couch; just the space between the couch and the bed seemed too long a distance to navigate easily. The weather has become so beastly, so hot, and soon it will break; soon the leaves will turn every color of fire and the breeze will turn cool, then cold, and then I will huddle under my blankets freezing and praying that I will soon feel the warmth of your skin against mine. This Sunday I will be at church with your parents, as I've promised them. Afterward I will go spend time with my father; it has been too long._

_I love both of you so much, both my father and you, my husband. You are both great, honorable men, and I admire you both so much. He was pleased to know that we will marry on your return. He looks forward to having you as a son-in-law. I think a part of him might be disappointed that you did not discuss your offer with him beforehand, but as he tells me so often, the world is changing. He never expected me to take a job like the one I have in the city, to move out and be on my own without being married and having someone else to support me, and he hoped that the Great War would be the only one. After all that, the small matter of the gold band which hangs just beneath my dress seems inconsequential—and yet, to me, you and my relationship with you are so much._

_Some nights I am too exhausted to sleep, even though I wish for it with every beat of my heart. I wish for the chance to join you, in a dream if not in body. And I close my eyes and then open them and I imagine you coming into the room with me, sitting down at the edge of the bed, cupping my cheek in that large palm and smiling down at me. You tell me that you'll watch over me while I sleep but I wonder who will watch over you, and if only the desperation I feel to have you with me again keeps you safe... as though I cannot sleep because I must keep vigil for you._

_My every breath is a vigil for you, my love. My every smile and every quickened beat of my heart is for you. I know it is just my fancy, that couples have always been in love, have always felt their love the purest and most true, but with every passing day, though it seems impossible, I love you more._

_Return to me, my love. Every night I kiss your lips a thousand times and a thousand more. Every night I feel all within me still and waiting, so very patiently, for you. To be with you again._

_In the meantime I will remain,_

_Always and ever yours, my only love,_

_Nancy_

_\--_

_Nancy, my dearest, my love._

_Don't think that I am not intrigued but what you've said. I do intend on hearing all of it, all that you can't yet tell me, between kisses. I need to re-count your freckles, darling. I want to hold you to me against the cold, and I want to believe that this can't last another winter. I want to be home for Christmas, to celebrate with my family, with you and my parents and all the people I love. I want to spend every Christmas for the rest of my life with you, love._

_I am so sorry to hear that you aren't expecting our child—but I'm glad, too. I will share it all with you, every moment that I can. I want so much to be with you, at this moment so, so much that my entire body seems to ache with it. I want to practice loving you until it's perfect—but it was always good, and it always will be._

_Though we will not have a child just yet—love, please know that even if there is no baby, you carry a part of me and that part will always live with you. Your blood beats through my heart, darling. What we have shared, and how I have loved you and always will, that will never, never change. You are my flesh, my blood, my heart. The thought of you gives me strength when little else does._

_I never imagine you here with me, my love; I haven't the heart. To see you in the midst of all this pain and suffering would break me. When I think of you, it is in our home on the moon; when I dream of you, we are in San Francisco, the sea breeze coming through the windows and your hair like silk when my fingers comb through it. You are right, my beloved. I would keep watch over you every night. I would shelter you and keep you safe, my angel._

_I look forward to the day I can tell your father how completely I adore and cherish you; I respect him so much, and telling him that I wish to, that I_ have _, taken something so precious from him, I don't relish that thought. But I do love you so, so much, and for you I would try to withstand anything. I look forward to the day I can see you walk down the aisle to me in your mother's dress, wearing that secret smile you give only me, as we let all the people we love share in our joy and happiness, and let them see us promise ourselves to each other all over again._

_I would have waited for you, my angel, but I am glad we didn't._

_And if we never see that day, if my eyes have bent on you for the last time and my last memory of you is one of sorrow and grief—I believe that one day we will have that union, even if it isn't here, even if it isn't to be the way we imagined. My most ardent wish is for you to be happy, my love. Happy and safe and whole. I would never forgive myself for breaking your heart, should that ever happen._

_What I have found with you is beyond anything I have ever imagined, and my love, I never want to say goodbye to you again. I never wish to part from you again. The next time I take you in my arms, I never want to let you go._

_They say it's coming, soon. They say that soon it will be over. Just a little while longer. We just need to hold out a little while longer, my angel._

_I love you with all my heart, all my soul, all my life. Being apart from you feels like an infinity, but I will be glad for it when it's over. I will be so glad when all this is behind me, when the nightmare ends and the dream can begin again anew._

_I will see you tonight, my love. In our house on the moon._

_Until I feel the warmth of you in my arms again, until my last breath and beyond, I remain,_

_Always, only, and ever your loving husband,_

_Ned_


	11. Chapter 11

"Coming to bed soon?"

Nancy glanced up, her next breath an involuntary gasp. Nancy trusted her roommate implicitly, especially since George had been by her side through many strange and difficult mysteries. It would have been difficult for her to hide what she was doing from George, anyway.

On the table in front of Nancy were several scribbled sheets of paper, the paper with a copy of the original code she was working on deciphering this week, a map, three codebooks, and the last letter Ned had sent her. She had only received it the day before, and she missed him so much that she had closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the paper, warmed by the knowledge that his fingers had been on it recently.

November. The weather had turned cold and wherever Ned was, she thought he was cold too, cold and miserable and missing her just as she was missing him. The nearly invisible scar on her forearm felt like a thin thread of ice.

_I can't—oh, Nancy, I am so sick at heart, so sick to know that any of this is possible. It is beyond all nightmares._

_This is why I'm here. To punish the people who did this and make sure they can never,_ never _do anything like this again._

He hadn't told her what had provoked his letter, but Nancy was fully aware that his mail was intercepted, and so was he. Anything that could reveal where he was or what he was doing, anything that could help the enemy if they found it, had to be eliminated.

Even so, the words, the increasingly disturbed tone of his letters, were frightening her. The only thing she could do in response was work as hard as she could on the coded messages Agent King was sending to her.

Ned was in danger. She couldn't go over there, couldn't take a gun and defend him, but she could do this, and so she did. She hated that she couldn't tell him, but just as his mail might be intercepted, so might her own. As frustrating as it was to not know what Ned was going through, she understood it—if a slip of her pen could hurt him, then she wouldn't risk it.

She would have the rest of their lives together, or she wouldn't, but she would curse herself every day for the rest of her life if something she did had resulted in his being hurt.

Nancy gave George a tired smile. "Soon," she said.

George chuckled, but the sound was humorless. "I've heard that before," she murmured. "Tea? Milk?"

Warm milk would make her tired, and Nancy had a feeling she was close to cracking the code. "Tea," she requested.

Under other circumstances, she would probably be showing by now. Nancy glanced over as George went into their small kitchen area, taking out a pot to warm the water. Under the table, Nancy's hand stole to her flat belly, stroking it briefly. The scar on her forearm still felt cool.

George knew, just as everyone else did, that Nancy and Ned intended on marrying on his return from the front, and they both prayed for the war to end soon. Nancy still wore Ned's family ring on her finger when she could, and she always, always wore her wedding band against her skin, on the necklace or, some nights in bed when she missed him so much she could barely breathe, on her finger.

They understood, now that Ned was her fiancé and they had admitted their feelings for each other. They understood that she missed him so, so much; they understood the time Nancy spent with Ned's parents. The last time she had been in Mapleton visiting them, Edith had said that she and James wanted Nancy to come over and spend at least part of the holidays with them, and she had said that they would remodel a part of the downstairs so Nancy and Ned would have a place to live together on his return. Once Ned had found a stable job and he and Nancy had saved up some money, they could find their own home.

But the remodeling hadn't begun yet, and Nancy knew what they were waiting for. It might not be that declaration of peace that she prayed for every night and every morning. It might not even be the letter informing them that he was on his way home. It might be the moment his boots touched the front doormat, the moment he was safe in their arms again. To build a room and prepare for their life together would only make their grief that much worse, if he never came home to see it.

But Nancy had, slowly, come to understand that she had already done the same thing. She knew that she might never see him again, but it was purely intellectual knowledge. She believed with all her heart that she _would_ see him again, that they hadn't seen each other for the last time. They would be together again. She needed it to be true.

The war had changed everything. When it was over she wasn't sure she would recognize the world that was left, and she had changed so much since it had begun. But part of finding who she was and what she wanted to do always involved being with her husband again. She would never, never be able to imagine the alternative, not unless her life became that nightmare.

While everyone else in her life knew that she missed the man who had sworn to be her husband, only Edith understood that Nancy already was her daughter-in-law.

Gently, Nancy traced the faint track of her scar again, then bent to her work. The faster she solved the code, the quicker Agent King and the people he worked for could respond to the threat or enemy plans.

George returned with a mug of warm tea, and Nancy took a grateful sip. When she took the other seat close to Nancy at the table, turning a curious gaze on the papers, Nancy's hand gravitated to the letter from Ned still lying partially open on the table. He signed all his letters as she did; he called himself her husband, and she called herself his wife. Nancy knew she could just tell George that he was looking ahead as her fiancé to the day that would be true, but she disliked the prospect of deceiving one of her best friends.

Although, Nancy had to admit to herself, she already was deceiving George and almost everyone else in her life. Some people, when they found she was engaged to a soldier, asked if she was looking forward to being a wife, but she had seen the way that gentle teasing could become wordless sympathy when the soldier in question was a husband.

They still thought that if she lost him, she would be able to step back. But her spirit, her heart, already was knit to his, and had been for the longest time.

Nancy pulled the letter toward her, slipping it into her lap, and George chuckled before taking a sip from her own mug. "It's all right, I recognize Ned's handwriting," George reassured her. "I don't need to read your sweet nothings."

Nancy smiled. "Sorry. I... I know I'm just too sensitive about it."

George shrugged. "I know it must be hard," she said. "To love someone so deeply and be forced to wait."

Nancy swallowed, stroking her thumb along the curve of the band around her finger, the ring she wore to mark her as Ned's fiancée until they acknowledged their marriage. In the time she had been living with George, Nancy had checked the mail and found letters hand-addressed to George; twice the return address had included the first name _Raymond._ All in the same handwriting. Nancy could barely wait long enough to open the envelope to read Ned's letters to her; George just accepted the envelopes with a smile and waited until she was alone to read them or otherwise dispose of them, and she never talked about it.

"Is that how... how it is with you?"

George looked down and didn't respond, and Nancy shook her head. "I'm sorry. I know it's none of my business—"

George glanced up again. "He's one of Tommy's friends," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "He asked permission to write to me, and I've written to him, but Tommy told Bess he has a—a fiancée, back home." She sniffled. "I don't... I don't understand."

Nancy let out her breath in a soft sympathetic sigh. "Oh, I didn't know..."

"I know." George took another sip from her mug. "Sometimes I just try to believe that this is who he is, that he just writes to many women, but it's... I just can't believe that..." She trailed off again. "It's just some foolish wartime romance."

Nancy shook her head. "Maybe he's just able to tell you things that he can't tell—anyone else," she said.

George looked up with a small humorless smile. "And when he returns and he can tell everything to his sweet, beautiful fiancée, and there's nothing left to talk to me about?"

Nancy just gazed at her downturned face for a moment, then reached over and wrapped her in a hug. "I'm sorry, George. I'm so sorry."

George sniffled. "It was my own fault," she said softly. "When I found out I should have just told him, and stopped writing to him... but I can't help feeling—wishing that he would want to be with me."

And if one day the letters stopped, and the first man George had serious feelings about was lost... Nancy shook her head, more determined than ever to try to crack the code. "We don't know," she said. "We don't know how any of this will turn out, George. Maybe he will. Maybe he will come back and figure out that this other girl doesn't hold his interest anymore. Maybe he'll find that he misses writing to you because he's fallen a little in love with you, too."

"Maybe," George agreed, but she didn't sound at all convinced. "I can't... I've already spent too much time thinking and dreaming about him, and wasting your time too, Nancy. I'm sorry. Is there any way I can help you?"

Nancy nodded. She was happily surprised that George had told her as much as she had, but she sensed that George was already uncomfortable. "I remember seeing something about an alternating cipher in the blue book," she said.

The breakthrough came forty-five minutes and another mug of tea later. Nancy looked down at the piece of paper she had been using; after so many scribbles and crossing so much out, she had rewritten her current translation, making sure each letter and number matched the cipher she was using.

George was peering down at it with her; the two women looked at each other in dismay. "Coordinates," Nancy said. "Oh, coordinates!"

"What if it's been too long?" George's eyes were wide.

"Oh, I can't believe that." She snatched up the piece of paper. "I think the notation below means that it will be—Friday!"

"Where are you going?"

Nancy had whirled out of her seat and was going to the coatrack beside their front door, slipping her feet inside her light house shoes. She whipped her coat around her and hastily tied it. "To Captain Morrow's house," she replied, her words tumbling over each other in her haste to speak them. "He can contact Agent King for me. I have to pass this along immediately."

"You'll freeze," George declared. "At least put some socks on."

Nancy smiled. "While I'm waiting for the car to warm up," she promised.

\--

_Nancy, my love._

_I've told you before of the nights when the moonlight paints all around me silver-blue and the battlefield, I can readily imagine, really is the surface of the blasted moon. On those nights, and even tonight, I feel that if I just searched long enough, I might find you. You would be hidden well to keep you safe. Or maybe I would wander through some ring of mystical stones and find you, on the moon or back home, in a mysterious circumstance that you would find perfectly enchanting. All else falls away and the earth hums beneath us, and time feels meaningless. One day this moment will just be a memory. One day, the depth to which I'm missing you will be answered by a reunion._

_I miss you so. I sleep tucked tight and motionless against the chill when all is cold around me and I remember burying my face in your golden hair and breathing you in, and I miss even the scent of your hair. Just a hint of lavender soap on the air here is almost enough to bring me to my knees; how fast it draws me from where I am to where we were, and I find myself wishing to_ know _that we are closer to the end than the beginning, that this will be the last December we spend apart._

_But our Herculean task is apparently not quite finished._

_I see you as I wish you to be right now: at my parents' house, in the living room, the tree lit up and sparkling, presents piled beneath, stockings on the fireplace. I see you with my parents, your hair gold in the light and your eyes so, so beautifully blue._

_But I see you more often as you were on the beach in San Francisco, that afternoon before the fog crept in and turned the world into a waking dream. I see the way you looked at me, your lips a little parted, your eyes gleaming as the wind whipped your dress around your knees. My band on your finger. My sweet, my one and only love._

_Sometimes I think that when we exchanged our blood, you lent me a little of what I admire so much about you, that determination and intuition. I pay more attention to it now, and it has saved me and fellow soldiers from grievous injury at least twice that I know. I like to think that it's the soft breath of my guardian angel, of you, doing all you can to keep me safe and bring me home. When I feel unsure or doubt a decision, I take my time and think it through just the way you and I would when I would help you with your mysteries._

_I want to come home to you. I would do so much to be home with you. The first day of every month, I think,_ A wedding next month would be lovely. _On December first, I couldn't help imagining a wedding at New Year's. A new year, a new beginning, with you beautiful and sweet in your white dress and red roses in your arms. Last month I imagined you a Christmas bride. I see you sweet with blush-pink roses for Valentine's, with the first blooms of spring, flush with the heat of summer. I hope it won't be fall. I hope we will not be married a year before our marriage can truly begin._

_But if I could count and know the years, if I were given a list of tasks I had to complete before I could be with you again, I would finish them all as fast as my fingers would work, as fast as my feet would carry me._

_It would be the best Christmas present of all, to be with you again._

_I could see in your last letter that you've had another success, and I am left to imagine in what way. Perhaps you have recovered the crown jewels of some displaced prince and he has granted you any wish of your heart in return, hoping you will choose him. Instead, though... oh, instead, you ask for your own heart to be returned, and I can come to you again._

_To come to you, to be with you again. It cannot be as sweet as I imagine. I think it must be sweeter. To feel you in my arms would not undo all that has happened since we parted, but it would help more than I hope you ever know._

_I travel through an endless night. You are the dawn, my darling. When I sleep it is to dream you real again._

_I miss you so, my angel. Know that my every wish and prayer is for your safety, and the safety of all I love._

_As always I remain, wholly and eternally yours, my love,_

_Your devoted husband,_

_Ned_

_\--_

_Ned, my dearest, my beloved._

_I am writing this to you from your parents' house, from your old bedroom, where I slept and dreamed of you when our love was still bound by ink and paper and words I had not yet spoken. It is the night after Christmas. I spent yesterday at my father's house, and Hannah prepared what passes for a glorious feast for us, now. It was still delicious. My father's housekeeper can do much with so little, and she even taught me a few new recipes while I was there. I should hope that when it is time for me to cook for you, love, everything will be plentiful again, and I can make you glorious buttery-crusted pies the way I learned at my mother's side when I was a little girl._

_I digress, and I know I have told you this before, but how I wish you could have met her, Ned. It is strange to me now that she has been gone and she has missed more of my life than she was able to see. There is so much I wish I could have shared with her. I imagine that she loved my father much the way I love you, that she would have delighted to hear of our wedding plans, and I know she would have been proud to have such a handsome, brave, good-hearted son-in-law. I am so proud to be your wife, Ned, and I cannot wait until everyone knows it. I can't wait to be by your side. The joy I feel with you—oh, love, no one could ever mistake it. I will warm the hearts of all who see us with the radiance of my smile, with you by my side._

_My mother taught me to run the household, and I like to think that a lot of my self-reliance now comes from her. I could sew a hem, prepare a pie crust from scratch, and wash clothes myself before she was gone. More than that, she and my father both encouraged me to puzzle through problems, to think for myself, to learn and discover and help those who need it._

_The one problem I have not yet been able to solve is how to get you home to me. It would be perfect as a Christmas card, were I to hear a knock at the door even now, to see you there. Oh, Ned, it would be all I could do not to draw you up here to this room with me, to sleep beside you by candlelight, but I would not be so selfish. I would let your parents hug you for precisely a minute each, and then tell them that you needed your rest._

_They have been so sweet to me, and I know that your mother in particular is giving me all the attention she wishes to be giving her only son. Both your parents miss you so very much. We had a nice day together, and your parents' house looks much like the front of a Christmas card, with the yard blanketed in blue-white snow. You can see the moonscape on the battlefield; I need only look out your window to see it._

_And oh, if it were true, that I could sneak out of the house and find you somewhere among the dim bulk of snow-softened trees, to see first your silhouette and then your beautiful dark eyes, your smile, and feel the warmth of your arms around me. Love, I shudder with pure delight at the thought, so much that I wish it could be true._

_I love you so much. The longer we are apart, the more desperate I feel to see you again. I know it may be hard for you to believe, and I know you have forbidden it in so many words, but my patience dwindles like sand grains through an hourglass and I know, I_ know _that I could find the right person to ask, and they would bring me to wherever you are. I think Bess—she reads romantic novels, and for the past few years they have been about soldiers at wartime, girlfriends and wives waiting at home. I think she calls it 'following the drum,' following a soldier to war. I would do whatever I could to help, well back from the front, as I probably make a much more tempting target than I would a marksman, and then at night I could hold you and let your heart lull me to sleep. I would follow the drum of your pulse. I would let our desire lead me to you._

_I love you, Ned Nickerson. I lie in your bed and look at all the keepsakes you've left behind you, all that surrounded you while you were here. I look out the window and see the same stars that shine above you. I wrap myself in the blankets that used to keep you warm and imagine that some echo of you lingers here, that the arms I imagine around me are more solid than usual._

_Oh, how I love you. How I need you. We will be so good together, my love. I just need to see you, to hold you again—and you say you will never let me go, but I will never let you go either. Never, never. We will never be parted again, you and I. You will get tired of me, but oh, I will never be able to look at you long enough. I could never hold you long enough to make up for all this time apart._

_I must stop. It's so hard to stop crying once I start, and when I clench my fist near my heart I feel the ring you put on my finger cool against my skin. Oh Ned, I love you so._

_The girls and I have been invited to a New Year's dance, and Bess and George have insisted that I attend. My heart is heavy at the thought, because yours are the only arms I ever wish to linger in again, and celebrating the end of 1944 and the dawning of 1945 while we are still at war seems so hollow. But I am not the only person here missing someone I love more than life itself, and maybe it will be good to be there and support each other through this. Just know that at midnight, yours are the lips I wish to be kissing. I have let the war have you long enough—too long, I think. I will pray then, just as I always do, that every moment is the last, every day the last, every week the last we will ever be apart._

_Next Christmas, maybe we will sleep beside each other in this bed, on a night much like this one. Maybe I will be able to hold you as tight as I wish I were right now. When I think of our future together, love, I need you beside me to help me imagine it, to tell me all you want. The children we will have, the home, and oh, such love._

_Please, Ned. I need you. Come home to me, my love. We have pressed our luck so much already, and with every passing day I know how close we must be—_

_I love you. No matter when you come home, it will be the best Christmas present of all to look into your eyes and see your smile again._

_You are my true guardian angel, Ned. And oh, every day, how I pray that I can somehow be yours._

_I remain, always and ever, loving you down to the very depths of my soul and beyond. And I will wait for you, for always, but if you can, do not make me wait too much longer, my sweetest, heart of my aching heart,_

_Your devoted wife,_

_Nancy_


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this chapter was published a few years ago as "blue stars." The middle contains fairly explicit sexual content.

She kept seeing a briefcase. It was a handsome briefcase, but a briefcase nonetheless; she saw its faintly transparent outline where the light changed between buildings, in the crack between a door and the frame, in the shadows under tables and chairs.

 _And you have not been sleeping_ , she told herself sternly, flipping the rag over and scrubbing at the countertop. Her elbow sawed back and forth in the air and under the loose collar of her dress, the ring bounced against her breastbone.

"What can I get for you, sir?" she asked a man wearing a grey felt hat, his collar flipped up against the spring chill in the air, his fingers stubby as they grasped a traveling salesman's briefcase. She took his order and her throat felt thick, even as she turned smartly on her heel and scooped up the coffeepot. The radio sounded dreamy in the corner, the honey-sweet croon of a man who had lost his love.

It was all Mrs. Nickerson's fault. The last image she had seen at that house, during her most recent visit, was the quilt in the window, the large, single blue star. The quilt, all the other quilts on that tree-lined street, they all blurred, and all she felt now was the slightly shocked realization, like a suddenly sensitive tooth. Blue and gold stars everywhere. Their novelty worn off, they were practically invisible to her now. And then, Edith had told her, her tired and somehow frenetic gaze touching each spotless corner of the room, one by one and over again, then the long black car would come down the street and a man would give her the news, and when he had come to Mrs. Jacobs's, he had been carrying a small tan briefcase, so smart that she had mistaken him for something else, anything other than what he was. Death at her door. It had come to her in a terrible dream.

But the tired, pink-rimmed eyes of her customer gave away no world weariness any different from her own, and Nancy poured him his coffee with a nod and the pretense of a smile as he returned to his newspaper. The broad sheets crackled under his palms as he smoothed them out, blanketing the whole surface of the table; even columns in black on grey-white. She automatically sought the list of the dead, shivering a little when she turned away.

Briefcases. Edith had her worried for nothing.

On the other side of the plate glass there was a strange fog, come rising from the pavement, damping the sounds of the night, and the honey-sweet singer's voice faltered in the static for a few seconds before the orchestra rose to play him away. Hamburger sandwiches cut neatly in half on white bread waited for Nancy on the split counter, and through the narrow window she could see the greasy smears on the cook's apron, smoke swirling and eddying from his lit cigarette, rising through the sublimated grease, the hiss and crackle of browning meat.

_There will be a time when all this is over._

Mrs. Cauley and her little boy John sat quietly at their table, straining a little to hear the radio over the quiet, the hushed silence from without. Johnny was kicking at the rungs of his chair, but the smile he turned on her was brilliant in its sincerity. A night out, a true night out, even if it was the same diner they went to every month.

"Johnny!" Mrs. Cauley swiped at his face with a napkin, and Nancy hid her smile as he squirmed. "What would your father think of you?"

But Johnny's father was a blue star in a window, Nancy thought, remembering her own mother and how she was just a cipher now too, just a terse entry on a family tree that culminated with her name and the finality of the dash behind the year of her birth.

She glanced out at the fog, blaming it for her morose thoughts, before turning to Johnny and, leaning in conspiratorially, whispering, "You know, I think the cook has one of his outlandishly unspeakably wonderful blueberry pies in the kitchen. Do you think your mom would like a slice?"

Johnny nodded eagerly, his eyes wide, biting his lower lip a little and glancing over at his mother, who had a tired version of the same. Tired. _There will be a time_ , Nancy thought again, glancing over her shoulder as the bell over the door rang again, announcing another customer, but for now all the happiness in the world could come with just a slice of perfect pie, topped with a dollop of whipped sweet cream.

She brought the coffeepot and an empty cup and saucer peremptorily, once Johnny was tucking gleefully into the pie and his mother was taking her own slow, obviously reluctantly considered bite. The salesman drummed his fingers next to his nearly empty cup and she swooped down on it, filling it deftly while she sized up the new customer. A pair of crutches were propped next to him, against the wall, but that wasn't so unusual anymore, and his pants leg was faded from battlefield washing and the elements.

She put the cup and saucer down next to his elbow and poised the coffeepot just so over it, as he glanced up. "What wo—"

The words died on her lips, and her fingers started shaking, when Ned's eyes met hers. They widened, brilliantly, and it wasn't so much surprise on his face, he had to know from her descriptions in her letters that this was where she worked, but maybe his surprise at finding her here, maybe his surprise at how much she had changed, at how she didn't look anything like herself anymore.

"Ned," she gasped out, loud and ugly and shocked as a bleat from her, private as a sob. The coffeepot slipped from her weakening grasp and fell onto the coffee cup and saucer, smashing that neatly into shards, before cracking on the edge of the counter and exploding with a tremendous crash at Nancy's feet. She knew there was mildly hot coffee bathing her from knee to ankle. She couldn't stop staring at him.

And then he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, burying his face against her belly, and she slid her fingers into his hair and cried, because from the day she had stopped hearing from him, from the day his letters had stopped again, she had been waiting every single hour, with every single car that passed and every telephone ring, for the news that he had been lost.

"Nancy?"

They were all staring at her. The man in the grey felt hat, Mrs. Cauley and Johnny, and Barry, his thick glasses fogged from the grill, stubby fingers absently running over the barrel-curve of his rounded belly and yellowed apron, had come out of the kitchen to see what was wrong, to see why she had suddenly lost her mind.

"He's come home," she said, smiling, the tears making her eyelashes sharp and stubborn.

She was still on shift for another hour, really, even though she took her apron off and sat down at the table in the back corner with Ned, and Barry put the other pot of coffee on the counter so that the salesman could get his refills as he slowly made his way through the newspaper, reading every story, every caption, every advertisement.

"I can't believe you're here," she said quietly, squeezing the crumpled apron in her fist, her legs still streaked brown from the coffee. She couldn't take her eyes off him long enough to go back to the washroom.

"I can't believe you're here," he returned, searching her face again, searching her eyes. Everything they said was gentle, cautious. The person she had been while writing her letters seemed like someone else entirely, a much bolder, much more careless girl. Their hands were touching, between them on the table, and his thumb kept stroking her index finger, over and over, just barely.

"Are you out? Free?"

He glanced down at his leg before answering. "Yes. I'm free."

"You—"

She glanced down at his leg and met his eyes again, and when he saw the fear there his face softened. "Oh, no. No, the shrapnel's out, I just have to keep my weight off it for a few more weeks and then I'll be good as new."

She almost laughed out loud with relief, even as guilty as she felt. So many men had come home irreparably damaged, or not at all, and she had sworn that if he came back, as long as he still had eyes to stare into and a mouth to kiss, as long as he still knew her, that was all she wanted. Even crutches were enough to make her feel like a hypocrite.

"Shrapnel?"

He shrugged. "I got off lucky," he said gruffly.

She squeezed his hand. "I did too," she said.

He glanced around. "I never really saw you as a waitress," he admitted. "It was hard to imagine. When I was..." he waved his hand, vaguely, "I had such strange dreams, and this just feels like another one, seeing you like this..."

"I think I know what you mean," she said, her eyes sparkling, and he laughed for the first time, and the sound warmed her all the way up her spine, into that cold grainy place where she had been seeing briefcases and gold stars, black veils and fresh earth.

"Have you been home yet?"

He shook his head. "Walked from the train station," he said. "Everything looks so far away in the fog, and I wanted you with me."

"You're lucky I had plans this weekend and I can drive you. Otherwise I wouldn't have had any gas saved."

He nodded and she saw that look again. Plans for the weekend. Plans that, of course, were not meant to involve him. She had already chosen a yellow and white gown Hannah had recycled from one of her older dresses, and she had fully planned to remember the songs she danced to, so that in her next letter to oblivion she could tell him how it was.

"Did you want to go now?"

Johnny and his mother had long since finished their pie, but she could see the look of wistful longing on the older woman's face even from across the room. She was seeing Ned and thinking of her own husband. The sharp, fluttering tones of a female singer sounded unhushed from the kitchen, all the hamburger sandwiches made, all the bacon fried and ham browned. Barry would be on the back steps, watching the smoke from the tip of his cigarette drift lazily over his head, the fog creeping into his clothes.

Ned shook his head. "I just want to look at you," he murmured. "I want to sleep for four days and when I wake up I want to see you, really you, not some picture I've worn out from looking at it so many times. I could draw that smile with my eyes closed, I know it so well," he said, and touched her cheek when she replied with a smile of her own.

"I..."

He silenced her with the brush of his thumb over her lips, and she watched, still and quiet, as he pushed his chair back, as he with some difficulty and visible pain got to his feet unaided, then dropped to his knees, clutching the chair on either side of her skirt. He gazed up at her and her heart was pounding.

"I love you," he said, and she couldn't stop herself. She started crying again, silently, shaking with quiet sobs. "I've loved you since the day we met and no one else, no one, is as important as you are, as this, is to me. I love you, Nancy Drew."

Dimly she could hear Mrs. Cauley clapping from across the room as she knelt down, touching her forehead to his, one of his arms sliding around her. "I love you too," she whispered, brushing the backs of her fingers over the strong line of his jaw, her thumb stroking his temple. "I love you so much and thank God you came back to me, Ned..."

He tilted his head and kissed her once, gently, the press of his lips firm but brief, and the blush climbed up her cheeks as she grabbed him and kissed him soundly, her hand buried in his hair. Somewhere in her rushing ears she thought she heard Johnny wolf-whistle, only to be shushed by his mother.

"My blood pulled you home," she whispered against his mouth, and he nodded, his head moving under her hand. "You came home to me, you brought my home back to me, and don't you dare ever leave me again."

"I won't, I swear I won't," he whispered, sliding his arms around her waist. "I won't ever leave you again."

\--

Nancy had called ahead, because she considered it impolite to do otherwise, but she had only told Edith that she and a friend would be in Mapleton late that afternoon. Edith said that if Nancy didn't have any other plans, she and James would be delighted to have them both over.

Ned held her hand as often as he could during the drive to his parents' house. "I missed you so much," he murmured, and when Nancy turned to look at him, very quickly, she saw such an expression of awe on his face. "Home. I can't believe how different everything looks. And you..."

Just before they had left the diner, Nancy had gone to the washroom and rinsed out her coffee-stained stockings; her legs were cold, but she had left a few sets of clothes at the Nickersons' house, and she would be fully dressed soon. Wearing her diner-waitress outfit in front of him felt so strange, but then the intersection of their lives had been in San Francisco, so distant from what their lives had become after he was drafted. She could well imagine that seeing him on the battlefield would have been as much of a shock.

"I missed you so much," she murmured, and squeezed his hand. "But it's all right. Oh, Ned, I can't believe it..."

"Me either," he replied. "Like waiting for a dawn I wasn't sure I would ever see. It was so dark..."

When they reached his parents' house, although Ned protested, Nancy hefted his duffel onto her own shoulder anyway. "You have your crutches," she told him. "Let me do this. Besides, as soon as your mother sees you, you would have had to drop it anyway."

Edith answered the door dressed as impeccably as ever, her apron and hands spotless. "Nancy," she said warmly, and she had just opened her mouth to speak again when her gaze went to the figure standing behind Nancy, to her son's brown eyes.

Edith's eyes immediately filled with tears. "Oh, _Ned_ ," she gasped, and Nancy moved aside so she wouldn't block the older woman's path to her son. Edith flung her arms around him and Ned held her in return, his head bowed. She trembled faintly and Nancy looked away; she ached to hold him that way too and never let him go again.

"Leave? On leave again?" Edith asked once she had partially recovered, gently patting at her tear-streaked cheeks with her handkerchief. She just kept gazing at him like she couldn't believe he was real, and Nancy fully understood that feeling.

Ned shook his head. "No. I'm back for good."

Finally Edith noticed the crutches, and gasped as she gestured for them both to come inside, out of the spring chill. "And you're hurt!"

"I'll be all right," Ned dismissed his injury. "I'm okay."

When Ned's father came home for dinner a short time later, he wasn't surprised to see Nancy there, but Ned had pulled himself to his feet as soon as he heard his father's car pull up. Seeing the expression on Ned's father's face when he caught sight of the son he hadn't seen in three years was enough to bring tears to Nancy's own eyes. They embraced each other, and when Nancy heard Edith sniffle, she looked over at her mother-in-law and exchanged a smile with her.

"Ned. Oh, thank God you're safe, thank God you're home again."

During the meal, Ned was undeniably the center of conversation and all their attention. Edith caught him up with the news about their close family friends, and she declared that they would absolutely have to have a party in his honor. Ned shook his head, clearly dismayed at the idea of being the center of attention; besides, he pointed out to his parents, Nancy's hand joined to his out of sight between their seats, that soon enough they would be inviting those same friends to a wedding. And that, being the center of that celebration, Ned absolutely seemed to prefer.

James smiled at his son. "Nancy told us about your plans, last summer," he said. "We were glad to hear it. We've practically adopted her in your absence."

Nancy nodded solemnly, her blue eyes sparkling. "It will be difficult, not to be the favored child anymore, but I'll manage somehow," she told Ned with a smile.

It felt like Christmas, but that didn't surprise her, not at all. His parents were clearly overjoyed to have their son home again, and his mother especially offered to fetch anything he might want or need. His glass and plate were never empty, not as long as she could help it. Nancy would have waited on him too, but Ned kept his hand in hers and only rarely, reluctantly, released it.

It felt like a dream, one she had been so sad to wake from a hundred times. That he could be home and safe and with them again, that their lives could begin, that he was with her again.

The only day she had ever felt happier was the day she had married him.

\--

Three years. Ned couldn't believe it had been close to three years since he had lived in this house. Everything looked much as he remembered it, but a blue star flag hung in the window. Blue star. He was that hand-stitched blue star.

Ned hadn't truly considered that he and his wife would likely be sleeping apart until their public ceremony. He couldn't bear the thought of letting her go at the end of the night. He wanted her in his arms. He needed her.

Then his mother said that of course it was late and Nancy wouldn't want to drive back into the city at such an hour, that she was of course welcome to stay with them. After a glance at Ned and a faint protest, Nancy accepted with a smile.

Ned's father was the first to retire, but not before giving Ned another hug and telling him again how glad he was to have him home again. Then Nancy went upstairs, but not before telling Ned she would come back down to help him with his crutches and his bag.

Ned's mother turned to him when they were alone, patting his hand and giving him a smile. "She is a lovely girl," she said. "A lovely young woman. I'm so glad she finally realized how she felt about you."

Ned smiled. "I will ask Dad tomorrow, but since you already know... I would like to give her the family ring, instead of that cheap gold band I bought for her in San Francisco. I'll wait until the ceremony..."

His mother nodded. "Of course. But don't devalue that first ring too much, Ned. Nancy showed me the pictures from that day. Maybe it wasn't quite the way you had imagined it, but I saw the happiness on both your faces. When there isn't love, even the most expensive, most elaborate ceremony on earth couldn't buy it."

Ned gave her another swift smile. "I could not love her more than I already do," he murmured. "And now I truly _can_ be her husband. I can be here to love and cherish and support her just the way I always wanted."

His mother patted his shoulder. "I'm so happy for you," she murmured. "So happy for you both. And of course, if it's acceptable to you, the two of you will live here with us until you have your feet under you and can support your family by yourself."

Ned looked ruefully down at his injured legs. "Then I'm sure you'll pray for a speedy recovery."

His mother smiled. "I always do," she said. "But not for that reason. I would cheerfully have you and Nancy stay here with us forever, but I know you'll need your own space."

Ned nodded. "Thank you," he murmured. "I missed both of you so much. All of you."

His mother's eyes were shining again. "Oh, Ned. I still can't believe it's real, that you're here with us again. I woke up just this morning praying that you were safe..."

Ned hugged her. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Nancy came downstairs then, her blue eyes shining as she gazed at him. She wore a black and gold robe and matching slippers, and she looked poised and so very beautiful to him. "Do you need some help?" she asked him softly.

Edith glanced between the two of them. "I think I'll retire for the evening. Nancy, the spare bedroom is ready for you, if you need it."

Nancy nodded her thanks, and Ned found himself wishing vehemently that it wasn't some signal between them. He resolved to have Nancy help him all the way to his bed, and then to hold her and keep her there with him—if she wanted to be, anyway.

Making his way upstairs on his crutches was laborious, and he hated that he didn't have his full strength. Remembering the circumstance—he tried to put it out of his head, to keep his mood from becoming dark, but it was difficult. By the time they reached his room, Ned _needed_ her. He had needed her for so long, and to have her so close to him...

He sat down heavily at the foot of the bed, sighing with frustration. His old room. Walking back into it was like walking back in time, as though it had only been a few days since he had packed his bag and headed off to training—save for the woman who had followed him in. Nancy took his crutches and propped them up so he would be able to reach them easily from the bed, then tucked her golden hair behind her ears. She brought her gaze up to his, and though her lips parted, she didn't speak at first.

Her black robe. It made him think of black velvet and dreams he had never thought would ever be realized.

"Do you need to be alone now?" she murmured.

Ned shook his head, holding out his hand. She came toward him, letting him take her own hand in his. With her other she cupped his cheek, gazing down at him until tears brimmed in her bright blue eyes.

"My husband," she whispered.

"My wife," he murmured, and he took her into his arms, holding her tight. She clung to him too, and kissed the crown of his head. "My beloved. I've missed you so much, Nancy."

"And I've missed you. When I didn't hear from you, I was so afraid you had been lost..." Nancy sniffled. "You promised you'd write. You promised..."

"I know." Ned closed his eyes. "I did promise. I'm so sorry, love."

"I can't believe it's real. I can't believe you're really here."

"Neither can I."

Feeling the warmth of her skin through her robe and pajamas was definitely giving Ned ideas, and it had been close to a year since they had been together. He had felt every single second of it.

Nancy took a step back, and her cheeks were a little flushed. "Let me help you prepare for bed," she suggested.

A part of him disliked needing her help at all, but he wouldn't turn down any opportunity to feel her touch against his skin, and she kept casting shy glances at him. He had been distracted by her and his desire for her for the entirety of their too-short honeymoon, and in all the time after, with her every letter and his every dream about her, that desire had only grown.

But he was reminded again, strongly, that the woman he had married was far different, far better, than the pale shade of her that had come to him in his dreams. Imagining her had been fine when they were apart, but now, he never intended on depending on those fancies again.

"So you slept here," he murmured, moving his legs onto the mattress and under the covers. He pushed himself backward so he was propped up on the cushions. After so much exercise, exertion, and motion, being forced to stay still was an irritation, and while he was tired he was far too keyed up to sleep. Not when he could be looking into her eyes, talking to her.

Nancy nodded, biting her lip for a moment. "Do you need anything else? A glass of water, something to read? More pillows?"

Ned shook his head and held his hand out to her. "I need you," he breathed, his gaze fixed on her face.

She took another step toward the bed. "I don't wish to hurt you," she murmured.

Ned smiled. "So long as you don't stand directly on my shins, I think I will survive," he told her. "Please, love."

He turned on the bedside lamp when she went to turn off the overhead light, then took off her robe and draped it over his desk chair. Her pajamas were quite modest, much like the red and white-striped ones she had worn the night before their wedding day.

She looked down at them, then up at him with an apology in her eyes. "I don't keep any gowns here," she said softly. "I didn't know you would be coming home..."

He shook his head. "You could be dressed in a torn burlap sack and you would still be beautiful underneath," he told her. "As it is, you look like a dream, Nancy."

She smiled, then moved to the other side of the bed and slipped beneath the covers. He propped up the pillow beside his and she sat up with him, then turned to gaze at him again.

"You must be tired," he commented, reaching up to brush a stray hair from her forehead. "I remember that from your letters. After being on your feet all day."

She closed her eyes as he cupped her cheek. "Normally I would be," she murmured. "But it—truly, it does feel like Christmas, to have you back at last. Like a hundred Christmases. I can't give up a moment of it easily."

"And yet you were willing to leave me here alone and go elsewhere to sleep?"

She opened her eyes, her expression grieved, but he was giving her a gentle smile. "I would have been awake all night," she murmured. "And after I thought you were asleep I probably would have come in here just to look at you. Afraid that if I took my eyes off you, I would blink and wake up in my room back in my apartment... and weep in unabashed disappointment."

"I couldn't have that," Ned told her. "I hate the thought of you crying."

She gave him a smile, and he could see something in her expression, some struggle there. When he leaned forward, she tipped her head, parting her lips a little, waiting for his kiss.

He made it light and soft, shorter than he wanted. "When I slept here," he murmured, "I dreamed of you. I suppose truly it didn't matter where I slept; I found you waiting for me as soon as I was able to drift away. I wanted you so much that absolutely everything else was infuriating."

She nodded. "As did I," she breathed.

Ned touched her cheek again, stroking his crooked finger down the curve of her jaw, the graceful line of her neck, gazing at her parted lips. "Oh, love," he murmured. "My dearest. So many nights, so many times I thought I would never see you again... and I know you said you would marry me because you thought it might be all the time we would ever have..."

Her blue eyes were shimmering with tears when she took a trembling breath. "You have always done this," she whispered, shaking her head, and a tear streaked down her cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb. "I suppose I only have myself to blame for it. From the moment you drew that knife down my wrist," she said, showing him the faint pale line of her scar, "from the moment you held your bleeding arm to mine and kissed me that first time, Ned, and before that... how I've loved you. I told you: a week or eighty years with you, and all that is in between. I give you all of it, love. You have my devotion. You have my heart. If only I had realized it, before..." She shook her head again.

He couldn't imagine ever tiring of it, he had longed for it so. "Tell me," he whispered.

She moved onto her knees and knelt at his side, gazing into his face, and brought her palms up to cup his face. "Did you really think it could be so fleeting?" she murmured. "I know so much has changed, that I am not the same girl you left behind, that you are not the same man... but it took realizing what I could lose to show me how much I treasured what I had, and how much more it could be. The week we spent together... if you had given me a child, a sign of our love that I could hold and treasure even if I lost you, I would have been pleased—but I wanted to share it with you, too. It was just the first, Ned. It was just the beginning. And now that you're here with me, we can have everything. Can't we?"

Ned took a deep breath, then nodded. "I'll finish at Emerson," he told her. "I don't have much coursework left. And then I'll find a way to support us..."

She smiled at him. "Which you'll do easily," she said. "You're a hero, Ned, and very talented, at everything you've ever tried."

He leaned forward and kissed her. "I wish that were true," he said against her lips. "Nancy... oh, love..."

He reached for her and she let him maneuver her so she was seated on his lap, facing him, straddling his waist. He touched his forehead to hers, his palms against the small of her back, focusing on the warmth of her, the soft movement of her breath. She put her arms around him, up over his shoulders.

"You are," she said softly. "I missed you and every day without you broke my heart all over again, but I was proud of you when you went to training, when you left, for what you did. I loved you for it, and I wished that I'd been able to do some good too..."

Then she moved back and smiled at him, cupping his cheek. "I can tell you now," she said. "I couldn't tell you in my letters."

Ned raised his eyebrows. "Oh?" He could tell from her excitement that it had been a mystery or something similar.

"An agent who works for the government contacted me," she said, his voice soft, conspiratorial. "I've been translating codes. Enemy messages. Oh, Ned, it's been so exciting."

"Was this—after?"

She nodded. "After San Francisco, after we were married. Otherwise I would have told you then."

"I'm surprised it wasn't earlier," he told her, and she smiled again. "I'm sure you're brilliant at it, beloved. No wonder they've been telling us that the war will be over soon."

She shook her head, the color rising in her cheeks a little. "Now you're just teasing me," she said softly.

"Never," Ned protested, shaking his head. "No. I've long thought that you were the most intelligent, most fascinating, most wonderful," he punctuated each phrase with another soft kiss, "girl I've ever known. Woman, now. I'm proud of you... and I'm so glad that you were able to help without putting yourself in danger. Because if you had, I would have been by your side, Nancy. No matter what."

She smiled again. "I was glad to be able to help," she said. "To bring you home faster. When you said it felt like I was your guardian angel, I hoped that maybe I could be, in some small way."

"Oh, you were, love."

She gave him a smaller smile. "I'm just so heartbroken you were hurt again. Is it very painful? Am I hurting you now?"

He shook his head. "You aren't hurting me. It's nice to have you so close... but it did hurt when it happened."

She stroked his cheek. "Do you... you can tell me about it," she murmured. "Although we have no staircase, at least not one where we wouldn't be overheard... oh, I had never felt like that before. Listening to your voice in the dark, and you kissed me so many times..."

His lips turned up in a bittersweet smile as he thought of it. "I had never felt so close to anyone before," he murmured. "I have never felt for anyone, _with_ anyone, what I feel for you."

"And sometimes it's easier in the dark," she whispered. "When it's only your voice, your fingertips, and we might as well be on the moon..."

"But then I couldn't look into your beautiful eyes, love," he murmured, and brushed a soft kiss against her lips. "And as much as I loved our house on the moon, my wife, it was only a dream, and I'd much rather feel the warmth of your skin. I don't want to think about it, not tonight. I don't want to talk about it tonight. I just want to be with you."

She sighed when Ned kissed her again, just as softly, then brought his hands up and unfastened the first button of her pajama top. She didn't protest or move away from him, and he took it slowly; when he had fully unfastened the top and took the collar in his hands to part it and push it down her shoulders, she glanced at the door, then down, but didn't say anything. His bedroom door was unlocked, but he couldn't imagine that his parents would want to look in on him while he was asleep. Especially not his mother, who probably knew that Nancy would be with him.

Nancy brought her chin up. "I'll be right back," she murmured, and gently pushed herself off him, crossing to his bedroom door. She locked it and returned to him, and he watched the soft golden light play over her, catching on the ring hanging on the necklace around her neck.

She reached behind her neck, unfastening the chain, then returned her wedding band to her left ring finger. Ned had put his own on as well.

"It will be so nice," she said softly.

"The day I'm able to put that ring back on your finger, and see it there always," Ned finished the thought. "I... is it all right? Do you wish to wait, until then?"

Nancy shook her head slowly, then pushed her pajama pants down, stepping out of them and sliding back into bed with him. Her underclothes were plain, but seeing so much of her still made him shiver in anticipation. She straddled him again after a short hesitation, and he could see that she was still self-conscious around him.

He could hardly blame her. They had barely grown fully comfortable around each other before their time together had been over, and now, he had been gone so long...

She reached up and unfastened the first button of his own pajamas, and Ned kissed her as she kept going, savoring the feel of her smooth shoulders and the line of her spine. She was just accepting his kiss, but once she slipped his shirt off, she leaned into it, her lips parting beneath his, responding to him eagerly. His hands cupped her slender waist, nearly spanning it, and she ran her fingers through his hair. He shivered at the sensation, drawing her closer to him, until she was pressing against his erection through his clothes.

She shuddered and pulled back, her lips reddened. "Ned," she said softly. "Here..."

She helped him move down so he could take his pajama pants off, and then she helped him slip out of his underwear, her cheek burning a little brighter. Once he was naked she joined him in bed again, but he didn't recline onto the pillows. She returned to his embrace and he kissed her hungrily again, reaching behind her. It took him a few tries, but then her brassiere was loose and she was shrugging it down her smooth shoulders.

He cupped her bared breasts and she whimpered. "Ned," she murmured, and he ran his thumbs gently over the hardened tips of her breasts, feeling her quiver against him. She was only in her panties now, and her kisses were sweet and hungry.

He had dreamed of this, in this very bed. Dreamed of holding her tight, dreamed of hearing her whisper how she loved him, how she was his. And now she was. It was enough to take his breath away.

"My only one," he whispered against her lips. "I love you so much."

"And I love you," she whispered. "Oh, I have missed this so much..."

Ned couldn't help it; his lips curved up in a smile. "As have I, darling."

He wanted to lie down, but he also couldn't bear to lose contact with her, and the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips was so silky and smooth. He wanted very much to rip the thin silky fabric of her panties entirely off without letting her rise, the feel of her gently nudging against him was so sweet, but he also didn't want to startle her. It had been so long, so long that remembering their week together really had felt like a dream.

After another moment, she released a soft frustrated sigh and pushed herself up, pushing down her panties and rejoining him in bed. Her face was flushed, but her eyes were shining and Ned thought fleetingly of the few spare condoms in his bag.

From all their discussion at dinner and before that, in their letters, Ned had every expectation that he and Nancy would hold their formal ceremony within a few weeks, a month at the most. She was his wife in the eyes of God, and their marriage was no less valid than it would be soon. And once he returned to Emerson...

But oh, when she returned to him, her knees spread wide as she straddled him, her gaze low and shy, he knew he couldn't wait, not if she didn't want to use protection either. He released a soft groan as he felt the damp heat between her thighs, the clear sign of her arousal as she kissed him again. Being with her like this felt so very natural and so new, so wonderful.

She threaded her fingers through his hair and he looped his arms around her, holding her tight as he stroked his tongue against hers. She kept making soft noises against his kiss, encouraging, pleading, her body moving against his. He couldn't believe how incredibly feminine she felt, his perfect counterpart, yielding, soft and sweet and welcoming. The joy of being one with her, inside her, loving her...

"Nancy," he whispered. "Oh, oh yes, my love..."

She kissed his neck, her hips rocking gently against his, far gentler than he wanted. "Do you wish me to," she whispered against his skin, then gasped as he grasped her hips and pulled her tighter to him.

"Yes," he whispered, his voice so low, almost a growl. "Please, I've missed you so much, I've missed this so much..."

She pushed herself up and together, fumbling a little in their impatience, he angled himself for her and she sank onto him, and she trembled when he found that place inside her and stroked her. She swallowed her cry, tipping her head back, her long golden hair tumbling down her back, and he buried his other hand in it.

His. She was his.

It almost would have been worth the agony of aggravating his injury, to bear her down to his bed and mount her, but the sensation of her slick, hot flesh enfolding him was enough to make him lose himself. They kissed desperately as she sank onto him, slowly, wrapped around him and trembling with every inch.

And he breathed her name, stroking her harder as she thrust her hips down and retreated again, grasping his shoulders for leverage. He could hear and feel her breathing, gasping at the pleasure, and at her next sob she buried her face against his neck.

"I love you," she whimpered.

"Oh, I love you," he whispered. "My darling, my love."

Distantly he knew the bedsprings creaked when she shifted her weight, riding him, but he didn't care. Nothing could have brought him away from her. He hoped that letting her have control would let her find her release, and when she began to jerk, grinding against him harder, he had to grit his teeth to keep from reaching his own release.

She sobbed his name, then let out a loud cry into his shoulder, and they were joined tight and perfect and her slick inner flesh was tight and quivering against him. He could feel the wet warmth of her breath, and as he groaned at his own pleasure, she slumped against him.

They clung tightly to each other, and Ned dropped a kiss on her smooth shoulder, his lips lingering on her skin as he breathed her name. She shivered, her cheek resting against his own shoulder.

She had been so quiet in the lull after that Ned had thought she had drifted off to sleep, but when he moved to gently stroke his palm over her hair, she made a soft noise and nuzzled against him. "Let it be like this always," she whispered.

"Like what?" he murmured, and she shifted against him, moving back to look into his eyes.

"As I never dreamed it could be," she replied softly, the golden light catching in her eyes, her long tousled curls. "I know how it is to share a bed with you. Now I want to know the rest."

He gave her a smile, but it was brief. "When I look back..." He shook his head. "It feels so distant, now."

Her smile was soft. "We were children then," she said. "I was, at any rate. I prayed every night that I would have the chance to truly be with you... and oh, Ned... I was afraid to let myself want it too much." She leaned forward and kissed him. "To live with you, to build my life with you..."

He kissed her gently in return. "I know," he murmured. "Here. You must be cold."

They cleaned themselves up and dressed again, and then she cuddled up to him as he reclined on the bed, his limbs heavy with exhaustion and relaxation. Just the memory of the scent of her hair had been enough to provoke a visceral longing for her, and now she was in his arms. He craned his neck to drop a kiss on the crown of her head, and she released a soft happy sigh.

"I love you," she whispered.

"And I love you," he murmured. "More than all the stars in the sky, love."

\--

On their wedding day, three weeks later, she wore her mother's wedding dress and a veil Ned's mother gave her. He approached the altar without a limp or any faltering, and when he stood there, in front of their gathered relatives and guests, tall and handsome in his uniform, his dark eyes glowed when he saw her.

She approached him without faltering either. He was already her husband. A hundred butterflies might flutter in her stomach, but it wasn't from nervousness or doubt, just the awareness of everyone around them. They had all come to the church today to see her marry the man she loved.

She carried a small bouquet of roses, and while the veil she wore—maybe she was no longer untouched, but she had remained pure until her first wedding day, so she didn't think God would mind her wearing the veil now—it obscured all around her, casting everything into a soft haze, Ned was in a pool of warm light. Nancy walked carefully on her low heels, feeling the bare skin on her left ring finger, perpetually aware of it.

Her arm was linked through her father's. She and Ned had maintained the illusion of their engagement, and Nancy's father had been pleased when Ned had come to him, had told him that he was utterly devoted to his daughter and wished to marry her as soon as possible. Carson had been happy to grant his blessing. They had set the date, booked the church, and he had come to his daughter, asking if she was sure she wanted to marry so soon; he had offered to ask the Nickersons to slow things down if she wished.

Nancy had been touched by the offer and by his protectiveness. He definitely approved of Ned, and had practically been teasing her about Ned offering Nancy a diamond since they had begun seeing each other socially, but he had told her that if she wanted to move back home for a while and put off her marriage, he definitely wouldn't object.

George had put in her own opinion, too, when she had asked about their plans. Ned would be going to Emerson to finish his coursework, and George had said, a note of hope in her voice, that she and Nancy could continue living together while Ned was in Emersonville.

While Nancy understood, while she was sorry to tell George she couldn't, she still had to turn down the offer. She and Ned would live together in Emersonville while he finished his coursework, and then they would move back to Mapleton and live with his parents while they were settling into their marriage. The morning after Ned had returned to his parents' house, the planned renovations had begun in earnest.

The soft music of the wedding march was distant to her, as distant as everything that wasn't her husband. Ned's gaze was locked to hers, and she couldn't stop smiling.

They had been sorry that the people they loved couldn't be there during their initial vows. Being able to share this with their parents and friends was priceless.

Nancy's father touched her hand before they slowed to a stop before the altar and the minister. When the minister asked who gave her in marriage, her father said gravely that he did, then stepped back.

Then the minister began to speak about how marriage was sacred and holy, how important it was, and their responsibilities to each other. Ned was to love her as Christ loved his church. Nancy listened, trying very hard to appear solemn and grave, but it was hard to keep herself from grinning at Ned. They had reached the day that, in her darkest, weakest moments, she had despaired of ever sharing with him.

Even knowing what she did now, she couldn't regret that they hadn't waited. Her love for him had only grown, and she thought that it would grow with each day that passed. He had said they would be reunited on this side or the other, and how she had loved him in anticipation of that day, in anticipation of _this_ day.

Deciding on her vows to her husband had been both easy and difficult. She had made her vows several times over, in person and in their letters, in her heart and with her voice. They had always been private, though, and shared only with Ned. Today, though, her hands gripped tight in his, she was ready to share it. She wasn't ashamed of what she had with him, by any means. While she was still convinced that what was between them was something only they understood, she didn't want to hide it anymore.

She loved him. She loved him to the depths of her soul and beyond.

When the minister said it was time for Ned to make his vows, instead of saying them for Ned to repeat, he looked at Ned expectantly, and Ned took a deep breath and then looked into Nancy's eyes. He had done the same thing she had. He had written his own vows, too.

For an absurd second Nancy was glad for the veil. She was glad that no one in the audience would be able to see the tears pricking in her eyes when Ned looked into them.

"Nancy, my only love," Ned began, holding her hands. "I have loved you for so long, and when we first met, I dreamed of the day I could call you mine. It has taken me so long to understand that I don't possess you, not on this day, not on any day for the rest of our lives; nor should I want to. You are no item to be won or kept. But you, beloved, have captured my heart. I hold you dear above all others, and I vow to you today what I have longed to promise you for a long time. I take you to be my lawfully wedded wife, to hold and honor, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, to cherish and adore and protect, to keep safe in the shelter of my heart, for as long as we both shall live. I swear that from this day on, my love, I will not willingly part from you; I will share with you all the happiness and joy that our life together can bring, my dearest one. Heart of my heart."

By the time he finished speaking his vows, a pair of tears had streaked down Nancy's cheeks. She sniffled, reaching for her handkerchief; she had the one he had given her those years earlier with her as well, but she had kept it stained with their mingled blood and otherwise untouched.

"Ned," she murmured, once he took her hands again. "My one and only love. You are the only person I could ever imagine as my husband, and I do truly believe that you hold the other half of my heart. I have felt every second of our separation so keenly, and seeing you standing here before me, I am more thankful than I could ever possibly say. I didn't realize until you were gone how incomplete I felt without you, and promising to spend the rest of my life by your side—it is no burden, my love; it brings me only joy. And so I am grateful that I am able to take you as my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, to cherish and obey, for all the days of my life, until death do us part. I give you everything I am, my love, with the knowledge that my most precious possession is your heart—just as you have always had mine. From this day on, I promise to be by your side. I love you so much, Ned Nickerson."

"And I love you," he told her, his dark eyes intent on hers even as she blinked another pair of tears down her cheeks. "I love you more than words could ever say."

The minister asked if they had the rings, and Ned reached into his pocket. Ned had asked for her wedding band so he could put it back on her finger for their marriage ceremony, and so had Nancy. She had been saving her money and had spoken to a jeweler in River Heights she had helped recover some stolen merchandise a few years earlier, and he had given her an excellent price on a wedding band. He hadn't asked why she had requested an inscription on the inner curve of the band which included a date the previous July, and for that she had been grateful.

While he had kept her wedding band these past few weeks, she had kept his—and, she had to admit, she had liked holding onto it. He had worn it while they were apart, and keeping it on the necklace and against her skin was another small way to feel close to him even when they had to sleep apart. Since she was replacing his band, though, she wondered if he would mind terribly if she kept wearing his old one on the chain around her neck.

"Ned, do you take Nancy to be your wife? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her, forsaking all others and holding only to her forevermore?"

"I do," Ned said, his voice grave.

"Nancy, do you take Ned to be your husband? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and obey him, forsaking all others and holding only to him forevermore?"

"I do," Nancy replied, her heart beating so hard that her voice trembled faintly.

"Ned, please place the ring on Nancy's finger and repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed."

Ned's hand was faintly damp with sweat, and Nancy gave him a smile, her heart skipping a beat as he took her hand and slipped the band onto her ring finger. "With this ring, I thee wed," he said to her, gazing into her eyes. "Again."

He said the last word so very quietly that he was mouthing it, but it brought another quick smile to her lips, another wave of tears to her eyes.

"Nancy, please place the ring on Ned's finger and repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed."

Only then did Nancy notice that the band he had put on her finger wasn't the same one he had given her during their wedding ceremony in San Francisco. She swallowed hard, taking his large, warm hand in hers. "With this ring, I thee wed," she murmured, sliding the band onto his ring finger before looking into his eyes. She took a breath. "Again," she whispered.

After a prayer blessing their union, the minister looked between the two of them. "As you have made your vows to each other and exchanged rings in the sight of God and this congregation, as you have pledged your fidelity and commitment to each other, I now pronounce you husband and wife. What God has joined, let no man put asunder. Ned, you may now kiss your bride."

Ned released her hands to find the edges of her veil and draw it up over her head to reveal her face, and she gazed at him with her view unobstructed for the first time in the whole ceremony. He was so handsome that she wondered the sight of him didn't stop her heart, and when he leaned down and planted a gentle, soft kiss against her lips, her lashes fluttered down.

Even though she had never doubted their marriage or felt cheated by the small ceremony, the momentary witnesses, the haste of it—when she saw the smiles of their guests, her father and his parents, her friends and his, she couldn't stop herself from giving them all a less than demure grin.

Three years. For three years she had been falling in love with him, over and over, with every word he had written her, every word she had written him in return, every kiss they had shared and every embrace she had longed to share with him.

"May I present Mr. and Mrs. Ned Nickerson."

As the wedding recessional began to play and the audience stood, smiling and crying out their congratulations, Ned took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

"You asked me for forever," he told her softly. "Here it is, my love."

She stood on her tiptoes, tipping her chin up to present herself for a kiss, and Ned obliged her with the soft brush of his lips against hers. "Forever," she whispered when he pulled back.

And then they walked out together, into the sunlight and laughter, her arm linked through his.


	13. bonus chapter

"Good morning, love."

Nancy smiled and stretched as Ned touched her belly, over her pajamas. "Good morning," she murmured. "If you were speaking to me, that is."

"I was speaking to both of you," Ned said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "My beautiful wife and our baby."

Then she opened her eyes and looked up at him, and the adoring expression on his face melted her heart.

Edith would undoubtedly be awake already, and Nancy knew she should rise and start preparing for the day as well, but she and Ned had their own system. Now that Nancy was growing large with her pregnancy, her doctor had told her that she should keep herself from any strenuous activity, to light exercise. Every weekday morning Ned rose and went for a run around the neighborhood, then returned to make breakfast and eat it with Nancy before departing for his job in the city.

Nancy missed her job, but she was glad that Agent King still allowed her to work from home. Even after her marriage, even after peace was declared, she had been amazed that the messages had kept coming, and then she had spoken to Agent King, who told her that he would always have a job for her if she wanted it.

So she had been able to work on translating coded messages while she and Ned had been living in Emersonville so he could finish his degree, and had continued once they moved back to Mapleton. Before she had discovered she was pregnant, and early in her pregnancy, before she had been showing, she had worked at an office in the city, and how she had loved it. Her coworkers there were two men and a woman, and Nancy had become friendly with all of them, particularly Sylvia, who wore thick glasses and was shy and had the most mathematical mind of anyone Nancy had ever known. When Nancy had been working in the office with them, every now and then a message stuck in her mind and she carried it home with her, either in a copy or in her thoughts, but most of the time she came back to Ned's parents' house and helped Edith finish dinner before they served it to Ned and James.

Nancy was glad they were living with Edith and James, even in the small built-on apartment. The house was already large and the apartment gave them their own space to share, a bedroom and bathroom and small kitchen. When the baby arrived, though...

The baby. While Bess had been able to answer some questions for her, Edith was happy to share all the knowledge she could with Nancy, and Nancy was glad. Upon Tommy's return, Bess had joined him with their son and they were living in a lovely apartment in Virginia. Nancy had been planning to pay them a visit, but before the weather had become pleasant enough to make the trip worthwhile, she had discovered she was pregnant. Sylvia faithfully wrote Nancy every week to ask about her health and tell her in general terms what they were doing at their workplace, and wishing her a speedy return.

As much as Nancy missed going to the office, she already felt uncomfortably aware of her increased size and decreased energy. She had been exhausted at the beginning of her pregnancy, and for a while she had felt better, but now she was feeling so easily tired again.

While Ned had told her he would be delighted no matter what the gender of their child might be, a part of Nancy was hoping she carried his son. He was certainly energetic enough, she thought, feeling a flutter of limbs answer Ned's caress against her belly. She wanted a little girl after she gave her husband a little boy, but they had the rest of their lives. If all was well, they could, they would, have another child.

That was, if she managed to make it through her first pregnancy. Nancy had never thought herself overcautious or protective until she had discovered she was pregnant. She was terrified at the thought of losing their child, of being a neglectful or bad mother, despite Edith's reassurances, despite Ned and James's assurances that she would be a lovely mother. She couldn't find it in her to begrudge Ned's protectiveness, either. She knew he was happy that the codes she deciphered were important and helpful to those protecting their country, and equally happy that her work on them was physically safe for her.

Nancy was glad that the continued work, even though it was from home, allowed her to keep her mind active. She and Edith often went for a short stroll in the afternoon when the weather was nice, just because they would have gone stir-crazy otherwise. When she felt up to it, Nancy went to visit her father and was often accompanied by Ned, though Carson came over to the Nickersons' to share a meal with his daughter and son-in-law's family at least once a week. Nancy was also sure to visit George as often as she could.

George had been heartbroken when she hadn't heard from her beau for several months. Raymond's last letter had been short, and her refusal to talk about him afterward made Nancy sure that he had used that opportunity to end their correspondence. Nancy had hated that for her friend.

A few months after that, though, George had met a recently-returned Army doctor who had escorted his young sister to a dance in Mapleton, one that George had been attending with Nancy and Ned and one of Ned's friends. The interest they had felt in each other had been obvious, and while Nancy tried not to be too intrusive about it, she did love asking about the doctor just to see the expression on George's face when she talked about him.

Ned found Nancy's slippers for her and she began to push herself up to a sitting position; Ned helped her up when she struggled. "Your son is going to be enormous," she sighed, looking down at the round of her belly.

Ned smiled at her. "He already is," Ned commented. "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer breakfast in bed?"

Nancy shook her head and he helped her to her feet. "May as well get up. Thank you, honey."

The windows of their apartment looked out into the backyard of his parents' house, and the leaves were a riot of color, glorious burnished golds, oranges, and reds. Nancy pulled her robe a little tighter around her and smiled her thanks at Ned as he brought her a filled plate.

"You're going to the doctor's office today?"

Nancy nodded, swallowing her first sip of juice. "Just a check-up. It should be quick and easy." She smiled.

"I wish I could go with you," Ned sighed. "Although it won't be long, now."

Nancy shook her head. "Not too much longer." She looked down at her belly, her smile fading. The closer the date came for the birth, the more nervous she felt. She wanted everything to be perfect, and she was terrified that it wouldn't be.

She looked up again when Ned touched her hand. She hadn't been able to hide her fears from him, and he had always been so reassuring. "Love, you will be fine," he told her, brushing his thumb against her knuckles. "You will. Everything will be all right."

She gave him a small smile. She planned on having their baby at the hospital, close to the doctors and anyone who could help if something went wrong, and if her pregnancy did proceed smoothly, she knew she would probably be fine. But knowing with her head was far different from knowing with her heart. She just hadn't spent that much time around babies, and their child would be wholly dependant on them.

"Thanks, Ned," she murmured, looking into his eyes. Every morning when she woke and every night when she went to sleep in his arms, she was grateful, and amazed at how lucky she was. Everything she had always loved about the man who was now her husband had been magnified. He was so kind and generous, so thoughtful and loving, and having him beside her still felt like a dream, even after living with him for over a year.

Before Ned left, dressed in his suit, crisp white shirt and navy tie, Nancy put on one of her new dresses, a long-sleeved loose-fitting garment in soft cranberry-colored fabric. And, Nancy noticed when she checked her reflection in the mirror, she did look rather _like_ a cranberry in it. Her cheeks were a little flushed, and the round of her belly was pronounced. For the entire time she had been showing, Nancy had felt a perpetual desire to minimize the curve of her belly when she was around their parents, as though hiding the evidence of their lovemaking would keep their parents ignorant of it.

The dress gave her a bit more room to grow, thankfully. And the fabric really was lovely and soft to the touch. When Ned kissed her goodbye, his fingertips lingered on her back, sliding down the line of her spine. Nancy could feel the warmth in her cheeks when she pulled back to look into his eyes.

"Have a great day at work, honey," she told him with a smile. "I'll see you tonight. Do you want anything special for dinner?"

Ned considered for a moment, then gave her a smile. "It's awfully cold today," he said. "Meatloaf and mashed potatoes, maybe. Be sure to bundle up, all right?"

Nancy nodded obediently, her eyes twinkling, and then Ned knelt down and pressed a soft kiss against her belly.

"Goodbye, little one," he murmured. "Try not to tire your mommy out too much today."

When Nancy crossed through the door separating their living space from Ned's parents, it truly did feel like leaving their small home for another. Edith and James were careful to let them have their space, and Edith treated their apartment just like it was theirs alone. She waited to be invited, and she didn't overstay her welcome.

Nancy and Ned had been shown a few houses, but especially with the baby on the way, they didn't want to buy a larger house than they could afford, and they didn't want to buy a house so small that they would be cramped inside. Edith had already said that the den would be a perfectly good nursery, especially since she was eager to help take care of her grandchild, and saving their money for another year definitely wouldn't hurt.

Edith was dressed impeccably in her black wool skirt and white blouse, and Nancy smiled when she saw her and the familiar containers of cleaner on the counter. Then she tilted her head. The strong scent had made Nancy nauseated the last time she had helped Edith clean, and she wasn't feeling optimistic.

Edith shook her head when she noticed Nancy's gaze. "No, no, it's all right. I thought I might do a little cleaning this afternoon, once we've returned from the doctor and you have your feet up and you're resting. Are you feeling well?"

Nancy nodded. "A little nervous, but otherwise I feel well."

Edith patted her shoulder. "You'll be fine. Everything will be fine."

Before they left Edith made her shopping list just to make sure they would have everything they needed to prepare dinner. Then Nancy bundled into her scarf and fall coat, chuckling a little to herself. Of course she would have dressed warmly. Sometimes Ned could be so silly.

Before she put on her gloves, she looked down at her left hand and smiled.

The ring he had placed on her finger during their second wedding ceremony was one that had been passed down in his family: it was a Victorian-style ring that his grandmother had worn, and the setting for the large diamond was detailed with flourishes and hearts. The brilliant diamond was gorgeous, and Nancy had been perpetually afraid of losing the ring for the first three months of their marriage, but Ned had taken it to a jeweler before giving it to her and had it sized for her finger, and it fit her perfectly.

Or, at least, it had before her pregnancy. A month ago her fingers had begun to swell, and to keep her ring safe she had put it away in her jewelry box until she could wear it again. Now she wore Ned's original wedding band around her finger.

The doctor's office was small, and looked like a modest house on the outside. Dr. Purefoy wore glasses and had wavy hair, and reminded Nancy of the kind of man her father would meet for lunch or a golf foursome. He had a deep jovial voice and slight crinkly laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, and it had taken Nancy a while to become comfortable with him. She had been skittish enough with Ned during their honeymoon, and she had found the doctor's initial examination to confirm her pregnancy beyond mortifying.

When he came in and asked how she was doing, she replied that she was doing well. He asked about her diet and exercise, whether she had experienced any pain, then picked up the instrument to listen to her baby. The nurse was at Nancy's other side, and she asked Nancy to lie still.

Nancy had been through this a few times, so she took slow breaths and tried to relax. She had felt the baby move in her very often, and she knew the doctor was only listening as a precaution, that she shouldn't be worried.

Then she saw him frown, and Nancy frowned too, unable to keep from staring at him. She waited for his brow to clear, for him to reassure her that it was nothing, but the longer he didn't, the more afraid Nancy felt.

Dr. Purefoy drew himself to his full height, then circled the table and listened at her other side. Nancy clenched her left hand, pressing Ned's wedding band against her skin.

"Please," she whispered, before she even realized she was saying it. "Is the baby all right?"

The doctor reached over and felt at her other side, his gaze distant. Then he stood again, his brow clearing, and Nancy relaxed marginally, still staring at him, begging him silently to tell her what had disturbed him, even though it terrified her.

"You're fine," he reassured her. "Congratulations, Mrs. Nickerson."

When Nancy walked into the waiting room area after the examination was over, Edith was seated on the couch, speaking quietly to the middle-aged woman sitting beside her. Then she glanced up at Nancy, excusing herself quickly.

"Nancy, darling," Edith said, hurrying to her and taking her daughter-in-law's hands. "You're white as a sheet. What's happened?"

Nancy shook her head. She had to be dreaming, she just had to be. "The doctor... the doctor says it's not one baby," she said slowly. "It's two. We're having twins."

\--

By Christmas, half of the Nickersons' den had been converted to a nursery; a Christmas tree decorated in blue and silver stood at the other side. They had two cribs and a changing table in the den, and a pair of bassinets beside Nancy and Ned's bed in case the babies woke and cried in the night. Nancy's feet were swollen and she was miserable; she helped as much as she could with preparing the holiday meal, but she had to sit at the table to work, and Edith assured her that she could handle it if Nancy became overtired.

They had that meal as a family with Nancy's father, partially because Nancy wasn't feeling up to traveling anywhere. She liked to joke that if the babies took too much longer, the doctor would have to come to her to deliver them, because she wouldn't be able to fit through any doorways. The babies liked the meal, though, and that night when they went to bed, Ned caressed Nancy's swelled belly and told their babies that they would be able to see Christmas in 1947, and he couldn't wait to share it with them.

Early in January, Nancy began feeling the first pains of her contractions, and Edith took her to the hospital; she called Ned at work, and he came as soon as he could. By the end of the workday, the expectant father and all three expectant grandparents, along with George, were pacing the waiting room.

The last thing Nancy remembered was Ned coming to see her for a moment, and only because she had demanded to see him when he arrived. The doctor was disapproving, but Nancy didn't care; she wanted to see her husband. The pain was terrifying her, and she was so, so afraid that something would go wrong.

Then she woke, and it was the next day.

She had been having the strangest dream. She had dreamed that she was going to have a baby, and then the baby was two babies...

"Mrs. Nickerson?"

At first, Nancy didn't respond. When the nurse repeated it, Nancy turned to look at her. "I don't know where she is," Nancy tried to say, but her mouth was so dry. She felt so strange, so very strange. The pressure that had grown in her belly over the past few months was gone—

She had been pregnant.

"Mrs. Nickerson, we're going to bring in your babies now."

Nancy nodded mutely, sipping the water the nurse offered her.

"Your husband would like to see you as well? Just for a very short time. We don't want to risk your becoming ill."

Nancy nodded again. "Please," she murmured.

The babies. Their babies. She couldn't believe it.

Another nurse came in with a bundled infant in each arm and brought them over to Nancy, and tears filled her eyes. Her babies. The nurse had just handed her one when Ned came in.

"How are you feeling, honey?"

Nancy shook her head, speechless with awe as she looked down at the small face, button nose and deep blue eyes, dark-lashed, beneath a stocking cap. The nurse handed her the other baby as Ned crossed to her, gazing with that same awe at their children.

"We have a little boy," he told her. "The doctor told me. A boy and a girl."

She whispered as she repeated his words, looking back and forth between them. They had thought they would have a pair of boys or a pair of girls. The doctor had told them it was unlikely that they would have one of each. A little boy and a little girl. Before she had gone to sleep, they had still been inside her. Now here they were, real and breathing and perfect, miniature and soft and sweet.

"May I hold...?"

"Oh," Nancy said softly, looking up at Ned with her eyes shining. "Oh, yes, of course. Our babies."

She had been terrified something would go wrong and she would never see them, but here they were. Letting Ned hold their baby so soon after they had been shown to her for the first time—her heart skipped a beat in jealousy, but they were so perfect. And Ned loved them just as she did.

She had never thought she would ever love another human being the way she loved her husband. As soon as she saw their children, though, she was immediately in love.

"So what will we call them?" Nancy said softly, brushing the back of her finger down the soft cheek. The rosebud lips parted as the baby turned toward her, releasing a soft cry, and she felt a curious sensation in her breast in response. Her milk.

"I rather like Margaret," Ned murmured. Nancy had been pushing for that name, if they had a pair of girls.

"And I rather like Michael," Nancy replied with a smile.

"Margaret and Michael Nickerson," Ned said, and the baby in his arms sighed. "Who will, between them, doubtless get up to more mischief than either of their parents ever dreamed. Oh, Nancy, I love you so much. They're so beautiful."

"They are," Nancy murmured in agreement. "I love you so much, Ned."

After a long moment of rocking and cooing to their baby—and Nancy could hardly keep her gaze off the child in her arms, but the tenderness and love on Ned's face brought tears to her eyes—Ned handed the small warm bundle to her again, and Nancy looked back and forth between them, still speechless with awe.

"I'm so glad," she whispered.

"Glad of what?"

She looked up at her husband again. "Glad that you were here to share this with me," she murmured. "That you were here with me when I was afraid this would never happen. I thank God every day that you made it back to me whole..."

He smiled at her, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I believe I am not supposed to do this," he murmured against her skin, "but I had to, love. I'm so glad I was able to be here with you, to see this. I love you so much."

The nurse came in and cleared her throat pointedly when she saw Ned in contact with his wife. "Sir, Mr. Nickerson, please. You risk infecting her."

Ned stood up quickly, his hands up. "I apologize," he said, but when he looked at Nancy again, she very much wanted another kiss. "I'll see you again soon, love."

She nodded. "I love you."

Ned smiled at her. "And now our parents are probably going to knock down everything on their way here to see you," he said.

Nancy chuckled. "I'm sure. They've been practically as impatient as you."

Ned took a step toward her again, then patted her leg through the blanket. The nurse growled again. "Come home soon, love."

Nancy nodded. "As soon as I can," she replied.

\--

The hospital staff assured Ned that his wife and children were doing well, but he missed his wife tremendously. He went to work, stopped by to see her every day, and ached to hold their twins, to take them home and care for them. Together Ned and his mother made sure the apartment he and Nancy shared was spotlessly clean and ready for their babies, that they had plenty of diapers and supplies and clothes. Since they hadn't been sure if they were going to have boys or girls, the clothes they had for the babies were neutral-colored, and Edith was sure to buy a rattle for each of them, and proper traveling-home blankets. The January weather was intensely cold, and he hated the idea of the babies catching a chill or a fever.

James and Carson waited at the Nickersons' house, and Hannah had come over too, to see Nancy and the babies. Edith went with Ned to the hospital to help pack up everything and carry the babies, and Ned drove very slowly the entire way from the hospital to the house, careful on the icy roads, afraid of having an accident.

"She's so precious," Ned heard his mother say, just before he heard a soft bleating cry. Nancy hushed the baby, and Edith cooed.

They were perfect. Their babies were small, but they were perfect. Ned marveled at them every time he saw them, their slender arms and legs, their wondering eyes, their tiny fingers and toes. He still couldn't believe it. Together he and Nancy had created them, and he was completely taken by them.

Bringing them into his parents' house was its own ordeal, and Nancy kept a firm grip on Ned's arm as he helped her inside, her suitcase in his other hand. They were greeted with smiles and cheers, and Margaret and Michael blinked wide eyes at their relatives, their rosebud lips parted in wonder.

Seeing other people hold their babies when he wanted to was almost unendurable. Beside him Nancy was tense too, holding his hand, watching intently to make sure their babies were safe. Their parents had raised them, though, and they knew to support the small heads, to cuddle the babies close and keep them warm. After Carson held each of the twins, he came over and patted Ned on the shoulder. "Congratulations, Ned," he said with a smile. "I know I've said it before, but congratulations to both of you. I can't believe I'm a grandfather, but they're both beautiful."

Nancy nodded. "They are," she murmured. "I can't believe it's real."

Ned couldn't keep his eyes off them. The sight of his wife's face, especially when he had just returned from the front, had felt just like Christmas morning, and so did this. Edith only gave up baby Michael reluctantly, and then Ned carefully cradled his son in his arms.

"Welcome home, Michael," he murmured, gazing down at his little boy.

They were both startled when a camera flash went off. Edith had taken a snapshot of her son and grandson together, and she gave Ned an apologetic smile when he looked up.

After all the excitement of coming home and meeting their grandparents and Hannah again, along with several photographs for Edith's photo album, both Michael and Margaret were yawning, their eyes closing. Nancy was looking tired too, and so Ned escorted her back to their apartment to lie down before dinner. Nancy settled onto their bed with a sigh, her lashes fluttering down.

"It feels so good to be home," she murmured. "Oh. Oh, Ned, I've missed you so much."

"I missed you too, honey. It was so hard to sleep without you."

Nancy nodded, her head tilting forward. Ned watched her with a fond smile teasing his lips, then knelt and began taking her shoes off for her. She gave a soft, almost protesting sigh, then let him slip her shoes off. Then she slumped to the mattress, squirming up until her head was on the pillow. They had put the bassinets on her side of the bed, and Ned toed out of his own shoes and joined her in their bed, draping his arm over her.

Nancy nestled against him. "Ned," she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry. You had... bad dreams," she murmured, her voice slow and exhausted.

Ned opened his eyes. From the bassinets he could hear the soft breathing of their children, could feel the warmth of his wife's body as she rested against him. "I did," he murmured. "But you're here now, and safe, and with me. I think that will help."

"I hope so," she whispered.

Ned drowsed when she did, as the wind howled against the windowpanes and walls, as she huddled against him. Once he sat up and checked on the babies just to make sure they were safely covered up and weren't shivering from the cold, then sank back down to the bed and wrapped his arm around his wife again.

He didn't realize he had been asleep until he woke to the sound of a baby's quiet squalling. Nancy was rousing beside him too, and she pushed herself up. "Shh, shh, love," she murmured, reaching for the baby. "Shh."

As soon as she had carefully picked Margaret up and was cradling her in her arms, the baby began to nuzzle against her mother's breast, and Nancy began to unbutton her dress. Ned watched as she exposed her breast, then brought Margaret up so she could latch on to her nipple.

"That must feel so strange," Ned murmured. "Does it?"

Nancy glanced up at her husband, gently stroking Margaret's downy hair as the baby nursed. "It hurt a little, at first," she admitted. "But I like being able to cuddle with them."

"You didn't want to give them bottles?"

Nancy shook her head. "I wanted to feed my babies myself," she murmured. "At least for a little while. It let me spend more time with them in the hospital. Does it upset you?"

Ned shook his head. "No, not at all," he reassured her, and when Michael released a quiet bleating cry, Ned reached for him and cradled him.

"He's hungry too," Nancy murmured. "Just wait a little while, love."

After Margaret was finished nursing, Nancy told Ned to get a burping cloth and hold her to his shoulder, patting her back. She took Michael into her arms and it took a moment for his questing mouth to latch onto her nipple, but then he did. Nancy pulled her dress over her other breast to keep herself warm, and Ned patted Margaret's back until he heard her hiccup a little. Then he gently lowered her so he could look into her face, and she blinked her long-lashed eyes at him, clenching and unclenching one fist. Ned slipped his index finger into her hand and she gripped it for a second, and Ned marveled again at her tiny fingers.

"Hi sweetheart," he whispered, and smiled at her. "You're such a precious little girl. I love you. Maggie."

"Maggie," Nancy repeated softly. "Mike and Maggie."

"Mmm-hmm." Maggie yawned and Ned shook his head in wonder. "I just want to hold them and watch them... breathe, and yawn, and look around..."

"I know," Nancy chuckled, and yawned herself. "I missed them so much. I wanted to hold them when I was in the hospital, but the nurses kept saying it wouldn't be safe." She huffed slightly. "I don't remember anything about actually having them," she said softly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I saw you when you came to my room in the hospital, and then I woke up the next day and here they were."

"That must have been a relief."

Nancy tilted her head as Michael's mouth slipped off her breast and he drowsed. "Well, part of me thinks so... but your mom was telling me about when she had you. It was painful, but she hardly remembers the pain now. She was able to hold you as soon as they cleaned you off, and nurse you and cuddle you as much as she wanted. And you turned out okay."

"Okay?" Ned chuckled.

Nancy smiled at him. "Well, a lot more than okay," she allowed. "I guess... well, I just wish I'd had that. I missed being home with you."

"And I missed you." Ned looped his arm around her shoulders as they looked down at their sleeping twins. "I'm so glad you're all okay. That you're healthy and they're perfect. I'm so glad to be here with you, Nancy. I love you so much."

Nancy shifted Michael, then flipped her arm over to show Ned the pale underside and the faint scar he had put there four and a half years earlier. He flipped his arm over too.

"We had to get through so much, to get to today," she whispered. "I love you so much. Ned, thank you. Thank you for marrying me even when we weren't sure if that week would be all we would have. Thank you for giving me these precious babies. For taking me into your family and loving me the way you do. I don't say it often enough, but I love you more than I could ever say."

Ned smiled, touching the wide wedding band on her finger, then tracing the line of the scar. "Your blood pulled me home," he whispered. "And you are my home. You and our babies. You've given me everything I've ever dreamed, Nancy. I'm still amazed every morning I wake up beside you. And I loved that house I shared with you on the moon, for so many years, but this is better, Nan. This is so much better."

She tipped her face up and he gave her a gentle kiss. "I love you so much," she whispered.

Then she nestled her head against his shoulder, and soon her breathing became soft and even. Ned looked at his sleeping family with a smile. Reluctantly he returned Maggie to the bassinet, then burped Michael; their son roused only long enough for it, and was asleep when Ned placed him in his bassinet.

He buttoned up Nancy's dress and pulled her into his arms, but he couldn't sleep. Soon it would be time for them to eat with their parents, but he caught himself thinking about the future again. Their own home, a backyard for the children to play in. Being able to provide for his family in their own place, somewhere close enough to his parents so they could see the babies when they wanted, so his mother could take care of them when Nancy went back to working at the office, as he was sure she would.soon wish to do again.

His wife. When he had promised her the rest of his life, he had only been able to pray he would live to see this moment. He had lived through a nightmare to find a life better than a dream waiting for him on the other side, because she had been waiting for him there.

Then Nancy nestled a little closer to him, and Ned finally nuzzled against the crown of her head and closed his eyes.


	14. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas 1950. Written for Nancy Drew Yuletide 2013.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit sexual situations.

Two days before Christmas, Nancy kissed her husband goodbye, then brushed the trace of her lipstick from his lips with the ball of her thumb. "Maybe if I work very hard, I'll be able to leave at four-fifty-nine," Ned told Nancy with a twinkle in his eye.

"Earlier than that!" she retorted with a smile. "It's Christmas-Eve-eve! You certainly deserve to have some time off with your family. And don't forget the spice cake."

Ned finished putting on his gloves, then picked up his briefcase and took the cake in the other hand. In his long winter coat with his hat on, he looked very handsome and dashing, Nancy thought.

Then Maggie came over to them, looking up at her father with a pout. Margaret and Michael were nearly four years old now. Maggie looked just like her mother, with her intelligent blue eyes and wavy, silky blonde hair. During the warmer months, and even into the fall, it was almost impossible to drag her inside from playing in the backyard. Nancy had already dressed her in a red-and-black plaid jumper and white shirt, but Maggie had flatly refused to wear her shoes inside, and Nancy had just shrugged. If they needed to leave the house, she would make sure Maggie was wearing them, but otherwise she didn't see the harm. Nancy herself was dressed in a green and white checked day dress with a Peter Pan collar and flats; if she needed to leave the house, she might put on heels and pearls, but for a day at home she didn't go that far.

"Where are you going, Daddy?" Maggie said, tugging on the hem of her father's coat. "Too cold! Stay here!"

Ned knelt down so he could look into Maggie's face. "I know, angel. It is too cold. But I have to go earn some money so I can buy Mommy a beautiful Christmas present. And then tonight I'll be home to eat dinner and play with you, all right? And I'll be home tomorrow, too."

Maggie's eyes had grown wide at the mention of Christmas presents. She and her brother had been fascinated by the tree, and helping their mother decorate it with tinsel and their handmade ornaments. "Promise?"

Ned nodded solemnly. "Promise," he told her, and kissed her on the forehead.

By then Michael had joined them. Maggie was the very image of Nancy as a child, and Michael looked just like a miniature version of Ned. He had Nancy's nose, but Ned's eyes and hair and jawline. Wherever one twin was, though, the other wasn't far behind. If Mike was climbing a tree to save a stranded cat, Maggie was right behind him; if Maggie had decided to catch lightning bugs, Mike was probably right behind her with a jar. Mike wore black corduroy pants and a red shirt, and when Nancy looked into his sweet dark eyes, she found it hard to deny him anything.

"Do you have to go?"

Ned nodded firmly. "I do. But we'll play tonight and tomorrow, I promise." Then he released his briefcase and put down the wrapped loaf of spice cake, and gathered the twins into his arms.

"Be good for your mommy, okay? Maybe I'll stop on the way home and get us a treat."

"Treat!" Mike cried happily. "Yes!"

Maggie gave her father a smacking kiss on the cheek, then patted it. "We'll be good, Daddy."

Nancy gave Ned one last hug before he left. "I love you," he whispered into her ear.

"And I love you," Nancy whispered.

The twins were full of boundless energy, and Nancy loved them both. Edith took care of them while Nancy was at work, and Nancy was glad to have the time in the city, to earn money to support them and use her keen problem-solving skills and know that her babies were safe with their grandmother. Morris and Len were still working at code-breaking, but Sylvia and Nancy had been promoted. They still helped decode the occasional message, but Agent King and his supervisors trusted them enough that they were allowed to help analyze tactics and predict future behavior.

Nancy did take on the occasional mystery, but she didn't like spending too much time away from the twins. And, Nancy thought, looking down at her still-flat stomach with a small smile, their family would most likely have another member by next Christmas. She wasn't showing yet, but soon she would be.

"Okay, my little Christmas elves," Nancy said, looking at Maggie and Mike, and they glanced up at her eagerly. "We need to make a few gifts, I think, for Grandma and Papa Nickerson and Grandpa Drew."

Maggie grinned, her eyes wide. "Presents?"

Nancy nodded. "Since we're going to go see them on Christmas and have dinner together. Let's draw them some pretty pictures."

After she set out the art supplies on the kitchen table and they started working with their crayons, Nancy looked around with a smile. The tree was lit and twinkling, with far too many presents stacked beneath; Nancy and Ned spoiled their babies, but their grandparents were even worse. The mantel was decorated with holly and red candles, far out of Maggie and Mike's reach—or at least they seemed to be, but the twins were resourceful. Stockings for Maggie and Mike hung from the mantel too. She had placed a wreath on their front door and small electric candles in the front windows, and a nativity scene on the small table beside the radio.

The radio was a constant in their home, and now the stations were playing holiday music. Maggie and Mike hummed or sang along without quite knowing the words, and Nancy had to smile fondly at them. They were so precious.

"Mommy, can I have a drink?"

"Me too," Maggie chimed in. "Please, Mommy?"

Nancy poured them both glasses of milk, rolled out the dough for sugar cookies, cut them out and baked them, and was just mixing the frosting when they heard a knock at the door.

At breakfast that morning, Nancy had told Maggie and Mike that George would be stopping by, and Mike immediately dropped his crayon and sprinted for the door with Maggie on his heels. "Mommy!"

"I heard it," Nancy laughed. "Just a moment, tiger."

George was standing on the front steps with a smile on her face and Patricia on her hip, both of them wearing red stocking caps and mittens with their winter coats. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" Nancy replied, stepping back so George could come inside. She stamped the snow from her shoes and put Patricia down. Patricia was barely two years old, and had dark hair and big hazel eyes, and Mike and Maggie were immediately offering her toys to play with, before George could even take her little girl's coat off.

"I talked to Mother this morning," George said with a smile as she unwrapped her own scarf. "Bess and Tommy and the baby—well, I suppose he isn't a baby anymore, and he has a little sister now too—are on the way and will be here tomorrow. We really must get together while they're visiting."

Nancy laughed. "I shudder to think what would happen with all five of our children in the same room," she commented. "Something to drink? I think the apple cider should be ready by now."

Patricia's steps were still not quite assured, but soon she was toddling around the room with Mike and Maggie. Nancy and George sat down on the couch, watching them as they sipped from mugs of warm cider.

"Is Stephen doing well?"

"Yes," George said with a smile. "He's glad the office will be closed for a few days, after today."

"And you're coming tonight?"

"Of course. My in-laws can't wait to watch her for a few hours while we get dressed up and have a little alone-time."

"She is precious."

"She's precious _now_ ," George replied. "This morning she wailed and kicked her shoes off four times. Terrible twos is right."

After George and Patricia played with the twins for a while, all the children were tired out. George took Patricia home to put her down for her nap and get ready for the dance, and Nancy put the twins down in their own rooms. Maggie's room was papered in nursery rhyme characters on a bright buttercup-yellow background, and Mike's room was papered in sailboats and whales on pale blue. They didn't want to take their naps, they never did, but when Nancy told them that if they slept their father would be home faster, they gave in easily enough.

Then Nancy went to the room she shared with Ned. The bed was made, their clothes put away, her vanity and Ned's dresser in order. The dress she had selected for the dance at the River Heights Country Club was beautifully embroidered ivory silk satin with a strapless bodice and a floor-length ball skirt. The dark-red velvet cape was perfectly festive, and her pale-gold pumps were the perfect height. Nancy had been happy to pay for the ensemble out of her own money; it was made all the sweeter, knowing she had earned every penny it had cost.

Ned had insisted, too. He made enough to provide for his wife and their children, and he wanted her to have everything she wanted, every beautiful dress and piece of jewelry and whatever else she wanted. He had offered to pay for the dress, but Nancy hadn't let him. Her diamond wedding ring would look beautiful with it, she already knew; Ned had given her a diamond necklace last Christmas that would look absolutely amazing with it, too.

After their naps the twins helped her decorate sugar cookies, and while their dinner simmered Nancy gave them each a thorough scrub with a washcloth; their fingers and faces had been sticky with icing, but they were giggling and happy.

Ned returned home soon after work, and Mike and Maggie greeted him at the door, immediately clamoring for his attention. Nancy took his hat and coat, and when he sat down on the couch their children immediately climbed up to join him.

"Nancy," Ned called, mock panic in his voice. "Help, I'm being attacked by pygmies."

"Daddy," Michael giggled, standing up on the couch and looking into Ned's face. "We made cookies!"

"Which will be a nice treat _after_ dinner," Nancy pointed out. Ned suddenly grabbed both of his children and drew them to him, and they squealed with laughter as he hugged them.

"I have almost all my sweethearts," he said, looking up at Nancy, and Michael and Margaret's eyes danced as they laughed. "Were you good for Mommy today?"

They told Ned all about their day as Nancy set the table and called them to it, then served the pot roast with potatoes, carrots, and onions. Ned nodded and listened to their excited voices describing baby Patricia, the pictures they had drawn for their grandparents, all of it.

True to his word, Ned played with each of them after dinner. He turned clearing the table into a game, and they helped Nancy take the dishes to the sink, and then he served them each a cookie—with Nancy's approval—and wiped their sticky fingers. Mike had an oversized model train set, and together they went to his room and set it up, then drove it around the track.

Ned really was such an incredible father, Nancy thought as she washed the dishes. She had never doubted he would be, but she was so grateful to have his help, when other men would have left raising their children to her, preferring that they be rarely seen and never heard. On the weekends, when he could, Ned was the most likely to put on casual clothes and accompany Mike and Maggie on their "adventures" in the backyard.

Since Nancy needed longer to prepare for the evening, Ned took their children over to his parents' house while she bathed and began putting on her makeup. Ned came back and was just tying his tie when Nancy shooed him out; she wanted to see his face when he saw her in the gown for the first time.

When she emerged from their bedroom in her full ensemble, all the time and effort had been worth it. Ned stood, wearing his snow-white shirt and coal-black suit, his shoes perfectly shined and his tie already knotted. Just the sight of him made her almost lightheaded. He was so incredibly handsome, broad-shouldered, clean-shaven, his dark eyes intent as he gazed at her. "Oh, Nancy," he murmured. "Love, you look like a dream."

Nancy smiled. "So it's suitable?"

"It's more than suitable. You're too beautiful," he told her. "I definitely don't look forward to the dance now."

Nancy chuckled. "And why not?"

"Because I will spend the night having to tell the other men who can't keep their eyes off you that no, they certainly may _not_ cut in and steal a dance. We could stay here," he pointed out, gesturing to the radio. "Have our own little dance, alone together."

Nancy patted his lapel. "Maybe after?" she asked, her eyes twinkling. "George and Stephen will be there, and Helen and Jim, and my father too, and it would be very bad form to stay home."

Ned reached for the button of her cape, gently pushed it from her shoulder, then lowered his head to drop a kiss on her pale smooth skin. "Would it, truly?" he murmured against her flesh.

Nancy's lashes fluttered down. "Yes," she murmured, but her voice was less sure. The touch of his lips against bare skin made her shiver, and truly she didn't care whose gazes she attracted, not as long as Ned's gaze was among them. Her attention, her heart, was set on him. His were the only arms she wished to linger within.

Despite his attempts to seduce her into staying home, both of them did enjoy the dance. The hall was decorated in soft twinkling lights, with fully decked Christmas trees and holly centerpieces. Nancy drank a flute of the cranberry champagne cocktail and so did Ned; they shared a plate of cookies and finger foods during the one break they took from dancing, but for the rest of the time they were out on the floor, swaying to the music provided by the band.

Ned's prediction came true more than a few times. Well-dressed men without partners approached them asking if they could cut in, but every time Ned gave his most polite refusal, and Nancy's hands never left his. Ned did allow his father-in-law to claim a dance, and he even grudgingly allowed Stephen to dance with his wife, but for the rest of the evening he was with Nancy.

"Ned," Nancy said softly, when she rejoined her husband after dancing with Stephen.

"Mmm?"

"You look incredibly handsome tonight."

"And you are the most beautiful woman in the room," Ned told her as they moved into another turn.

"How would you know that? I don't think you've taken your eyes off me, save when you were dancing with George."

"I don't need to see anyone else to know," Ned murmured, and his fingers traced small circles against her back, through the fabric of her gown. "You glow, darling, like there's candlelight just beneath your beautiful skin. And when we are able to go home tonight..."

"Yes?" Nancy murmured.

"I really do think it's time to get an accurate counting of all those freckles."

Nancy shivered. "Every time you try, love, you seem to lose count."

"But practice makes perfect." Ned's lips grazed the side of her neck, very briefly. "Oh, I love the feel of you in silk."

Nancy smiled, her lashes lowered. She had purchased a new gown along with the rest of her ensemble, and she had been planning on wearing it soon. Tonight would be perfect.

After the next dance, a man wearing a tuxedo approached the stage and tapped the microphone. "Merry Christmas to all of you! I wish to propose a toast, so if you could, please take a glass..."

Nancy and Ned each took another flute of champagne from a waiter, then stood expectantly. Nancy caught George's glance and they smiled at each other; George's dress was black velvet with a beautiful rhinestone brooch accenting the bodice, and she looked both polished and glowingly happy. Her marriage to Stephen three years earlier had been beautiful, and Nancy had been incredibly happy for her.

"During this season, we look back at what makes us thankful," the man continued. "To the close of 1950 and the start of 1951; to the sixth year of peace, to all those we lost and all those who returned, who gave their time, their safety, and in some cases their lives to protected and defend our country. We pray for a swift end to the conflict in Korea, to those brave men who fight for us again."

Nancy raised her glass with the rest of the gathered attendees, looking at Ned's impassive face. She knew well what going to war had done to him. He had told her about the concentration camp he had walked through, the cold sleepless nights in trenches and temporary camps, the friends who had been wounded and killed, the men who had died by his hand. The nightmares were fewer now, but he still had them; she knew when she woke to find him nestled tight against her, his face against her hair. The worst ones happened when he relived the explosion that had killed the soldier walking beside him, a boy who had lied about his age and was barely old enough to shave. The same explosion had injured Ned and sent him home, but if he had been walking on the other side, his parents would have seen the man with the briefcase at their door and that boy would have been the one coming home on crutches. His letters had stopped when he was first recuperating from the injury, and that silence had driven her crazy.

Ned was grateful for the life he had been fortunate enough to keep, the life he had built with his wife. He knew just how precious it was, and how close he had come to never having it.

After she had finished that second flute of champagne, Nancy was feeling pleasantly happy. She and Ned danced a bit more closely than they had before, and when Ned told her that her perfume was utterly enchanting, Nancy laughed and trailed her fingertips down the back of his neck.

"You are so beautiful, my love," he murmured. "To see you in a long white dress again... at least this time there is no veil between us."

She smiled. "And at least this time we go home to an empty house," she reminded him. "We won't have to stifle ourselves so we don't risk waking someone."

Ned moved back to look into her eyes. "Why, my dear," he murmured, his lips curving up slightly into a smile, "if you keep saying such things..."

"I was merely stating a fact," she pointed out, but her eyes were sparkling.

"And if I have any more champagne, we definitely won't stay here much longer," he replied.

\--

After the dance, Ned was exhausted, but happy. After working for a full day, playing with his children and going to the dance with his wife, he was happy to go home to their bed—but he was even more happy when he undressed and slipped between the sheets, and Nancy reappeared. She had slipped out of her elaborate ballgown and put on a pale blue chiffon nightgown trimmed in lace. Her blonde hair was out of its twist and hung in soft waves down her bare shoulders. The diamond he had placed on her finger on their second wedding day glittered on her left hand.

"You look so beautiful," Ned told her. "So very beautiful, my love."

She smiled at him as she crossed to their bed and slipped beneath the covers, her eyes reflecting the gold light from his bedside lamp. "And you look very handsome; you have, all night," she murmured, moving toward him. "I've ached to hold you."

Ned brought his hand up and gently ran the backs of his fingers down the side of her neck. "Nancy," he said softly. "Oh, darling. I love you so much."

She moved close to him, kissing him as he embraced her. Slowly he pushed the lace strap of her gown down her shoulder, then nuzzled against her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder. She had been shivering from the cold; she still shivered, but now he could hear sigh when his lips came into contact with her skin.

"Ned," she murmured.

"Hmm?" Ned was gathering the hem of her gown in his hands, moving so he could slip it off her. She wore only panties beneath, and he loved the feel of her bare skin against his.

"My cycle... has stopped, again."

When Ned pulled back she blinked at him, her blue eyes soft, her lips parted. She had a faint smile on her face.

"Do you mean..."

She nodded, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. "Yes, love," she breathed. "I think you're going to be a father again."

Ned couldn't help it; his smile widened into a grin. "Oh, Nancy."

She grinned too. "By next Christmas," she murmured. "And, Ned, when it comes time... I want you to be with me, and I don't want to just pass out and meet our baby the next day. Please. Promise me?"

Ned nodded. "If that's what you wish, sweetheart."

She raised her arms when he began to slide her nightgown off. "The doctor just kept saying he knew what was best," she grumbled. "That it was healthy and safe. But I didn't like it. I think if you put your foot down too, he'd listen to you."

Ned gave her a small smile. "I know exactly how stubborn you can be," he murmured. "I'm surprised he didn't listen to _you_."

"Well," Nancy sighed. "I believed him. But I've talked to other women, and now I'm more confident. I wasn't before. I was so terrified that something would go wrong."

"I remember," Ned nodded. "But you were fine, love. You were so good with them, even before they were born."

"And so were you," she murmured, gazing up into his eyes. "You are so incredible with them, Ned. I can't wait to see them open presents on Christmas morning."

Ned smiled at her. During his lunch break, Mr. Lewis at the furniture store had called to say the television Ned had ordered had come in, and Ned was going to surprise his wife with the gift. He still couldn't quite believe it. Both of them had grown up listening to the radio, just as their children were now. "Neither can I, love," he told her softly.

Then she reclined onto her pillow and reached for him, drawing him down to her, and Ned obliged. He could still taste the champagne on her lips, and his hips settled against hers as she wrapped a leg around him. Usually when they made love it was quietly and with part of their attention on listening for their children. Since they had the house to themselves, he could focus entirely on his wife and how good it felt to stroke her soft skin and feel her shiver against his touch.

"I love you," she whispered.

"And I love you," Ned replied, and kissed her again. "Oh, honey, I love you so much."

She sighed with pleasure when Ned slipped her panties off, and he chuckled. She didn't seem to like them very much. "Sweetheart, you know..."

"Yes, I know," she replied, and cupped his cheek. "But I like to dress up for my husband."

"And I'd rather you come to bed naked than wear something uncomfortable."

Her smile widened into a grin. "I think the important part of that statement was my coming to bed naked."

Ned shrugged, then ran his palm down her side, slowly. "I love you like this," he murmured. "And I love you no matter what you wear because this is what you look like underneath."

He gently rubbed his palm over her belly, and Nancy's legs drew up a little. "It feels like such a miracle," he murmured. "Think we'll have twins again?"

Nancy shook her head. "Or at least I hope not," she told him. "If it ends up that way, so be it, but three sounds perfect."

"To me too," Ned said. "We're evenly matched now. With another baby, we'll be three against two."

She laid her hand over his, resting over her belly. "So you've already decided this one is a boy?"

"Who can say?" Ned leaned down and kissed her belly. "As long as he or she is healthy and just as beautiful as Maggie and Mike, I'll be happy too."

Nancy ran her fingers through his hair, opening her legs to him as he nuzzled against the tops of her thighs, the sensitive skin between her legs. He remembered well how tentative and shy she had been about making love to him during their week together in San Francisco, at least at first. Now, though, she was curious and willing, and if he suggested something they hadn't tried before, she just asked him to take it slowly with her.

In the back of his mind, he had always thought that a good girl would be shy and reluctant, but then Nancy was unlike any girl he had ever known. She was concerned about doing what she perceived as the right and proper thing; she was unfailingly polite and well-mannered, but when they were alone together...

There were no words for the way it was between them. As far as Ned was concerned, what happened between them in the privacy of their bedroom was always between them and them alone. If she liked to feel his hands on her sometimes instead of doing anything else, he obliged her. Some nights Ned just wanted to feel her close to him, and she obliged him then too. She held him and spoke softly to him, and the face he had to wear in front of everyone else sometimes slipped away just a little. He had shared so much with her in their letters, so many of his fears and so much of his pain, and he had felt exposed to her long before she had ever seen him naked.

He had learned how to please her and how to experience pleasure in return, in the small apartment they had shared in Emersonville when they were first married, in the apartment at his parents' house, while the twins were napping and they were both exhausted. He was so proud of the woman he had married. His mother had kept the household for his father, and he had always imagined that his wife would be just the same, but Nancy wasn't like that. She was home to put dinner on the table, and she was a wonderful mother to their children, but she had found a career that made her happy, too.

And while Nancy very much wanted to be the good, proper woman, Ned had seen another woman make some remark about how Nancy couldn't be a real mother if she had a job. Nancy had delivered the most polite, even-toned put-down Ned had ever heard, and the other woman had blushed to the roots of her hair in embarrassment. But Nancy had been right. Her children were happy and healthy, her husband was happy and healthy, and her work made her happy too. Nancy highly doubted, she told the other woman, that her husband wanted her home, bored and miserable.

Ned didn't. He definitely didn't want that. He loved to see her happy, and living close to their parents meant their children were able to see their grandparents often—and, not quite as often as Ned wanted, it meant nights like tonight.

Her legs were so silky-smooth under his fingertips, and Ned kissed her slender ankles, smiled at her red-painted toes. He kissed the insides of her knees, every now and then whispering a number into her skin just to feel her chuckle. He kissed the insides of her elbows, the points of her shoulders, then her breasts.

"Mmm. Ned," she breathed. "Oh, that feels so good..."

He slipped out of his underwear and moved over her, and she twined her legs around him, her fingers running through his hair as he nuzzled and kissed her breasts. Slowly, his touch light and almost teasing, he ran his hand down to the join of her thighs and began to gently stroke that firm slick button between her legs.

She shuddered. "Oh," she moaned. "Mmm..."

He kissed her temple, the corner of her mouth, still stroking her, and then Nancy turned her face and kissed him hungrily. Ned's tongue slipped into her mouth and she tilted her knees back, trembling as he stroked her.

She was so beautiful. She was so incredibly beautiful, and he kissed her until she was rocking her hips up under him, seeking him. She had one hand in his hair, the other against his shoulder blade, as he moved to her.

Her entire body trembled in one instant when he touched the head of his sex against the entrance of her own, feeling the warmth of her radiate against him. She gasped, wrapping her legs around him, and her breath came in a long pleased groan as he slid inside her.

After the doctor had confirmed her first pregnancy, Ned had been so reluctant to do this, afraid he would hurt her or somehow cause her to lose the baby. But the thought of living with her for the entire length of her pregnancy, sleeping beside her, and not being able to make love to her when they both wanted it so much had been unbearable. After he had come home from work one day, she had drawn him to her, had told him that it was all right. She wouldn't tell him how she knew, only that she had been told it was all right.

It had been more difficult, it would be more difficult, once she was heavy with child, but for now her soft body was as familiar to him as his own, and slipping inside her was easy. He kissed and stroked her and she returned the kisses, her body twisting and rocking to meet his, and he could feel the flush in her cheek, the way she panted when he stroked her harder.

"Ned," she whispered, and gasped, bucking when he stroked his thumb over her nipple.

"I love you," he told her, kissing her again.

"I love you," she gasped. "So much..."

He loved the way she giggled and squirmed, still rocking against him, when he nipped at her neck. He loved the soft light in her eyes when he looked down into her face. He loved looking into her eyes while they were making love. He loved everything about her.

Then he shifted and began to drive in and out of her, steadily, slowly at first, until she writhed under him, her nails pressing gently into his back. Her gasps turned into moans, her lashes fluttering down. Occasionally, if he held out long enough, he was able to reduce her to shuddering, gasping and sobbing in pleasure, clinging to him. In those moments she was undone, focused only on the joy and delight of their lovemaking, and for that span of heartbeats he felt closer to her than he had ever thought possible.

This time she grasped him, turning her face into his neck, and cried out so loudly he could feel it vibrate against his skin. Ned shifted to guide his hand between them, to find that tender place inside her, and she screamed, her hips jerking. Sometimes at the most inopportune moments he thought of her this way, her skin glowing, her blonde hair a tangle on the pillow, her legs wrapped tight around him. Usually it was when they were in public, somewhere where she was very proper and modest, and he just wanted to pull her home and slip her out of her clothes, to make her giggle and squeal with delight, wholly unabashed and unselfconsciously delighted.

Their lovemaking lasted until they were both fully spent. He moved inside his wife until he felt her slick inner flesh tighten and relax around him, until she was begging him, pleading him wordlessly for her release. Finding it with her, finding his own with her, was one of the most incredible experiences he had ever had, every single time.

Afterward Ned rolled onto his side, catching his breath before he found the cloth beside their bed and cleaned her up. Her eyes were closed, her face flushed, and when Ned settled beside her again she nestled against him, still trying to catch her own breath. Her body looked so pale and lovely in the moonlight, the tips of her breasts peaked and rosy. She was so beautiful that he wished he could paint her with any justice, but he could never trace the sweet lines of her with enough fidelity.

After a long moment she roused, nuzzling against him, and drew a long breath. "Oh, Ned," she moaned, blinking at him as he drew the covers up over them both. "Oh, love. Come here."

He obliged her, and she slumped against him with a delighted sigh, her naked body nestled against his. "Ned," she murmured.

"Hmm?" He gently pushed her hair from her temple and kissed her there.

"Mmm. I can barely summon the strength to breathe," she chuckled. "I love you."

"I love you too," Ned murmured, and she cuddled close to him, putting her arm around him as he pressed his face against the crown of her head, drawing in the scent of her perfume as he drifted off to blissfully undisturbed sleep.

\--

The following evening, Michael and Margaret were tucked into their beds, but that in itself had been quite the accomplishment. The twins had put out cookies and milk for Santa, but they wanted to stay awake and see him visit and leave presents. They were so excited at the thought of Christmas morning that Nancy and Ned had waited until long after putting them to bed to get up. Finally, finally, their son and daughter were asleep, their faces blank and angelic as they dreamed.

Nancy was wrapped in a warm fluffy red robe with matching slippers, and Ned in his navy one, as they worked on assembling the last few presents. Though they were trying to be quiet, Ned had turned on the radio and Christmas carols played very quietly into the peace. Through the windows Nancy could see fresh snowfall, the blue-white blanket of their backyard in the moonlight. Inside their home was snug and warm, and while she occasionally felt the chill in the gaps of her robe and on her ankles, her mug of warm cocoa was doing wonders.

Ned finally sat back with a sigh, reaching for his own mug of cocoa, and Nancy looked up from the dollhouse she was assembling to look at his project. What she saw made her chuckle. Ned's parents were giving Michael a fire truck and a bulldozer for Christmas, and so Ned had constructed his own "street" for the trucks using Nancy's scavenged shoeboxes. He had cut appropriate gaps and drawn a wide road, and they could be reassembled any way Mike wished to make a path, much like his train tracks.

"Did you remember the building blocks?" Nancy asked softly, as she placed a small faux-iron bedframe just-so in one of the tiny bedrooms.

Ned finished his sip of cocoa, then headed to their room to grab the twin pails. Maggie enjoyed the blocks just as much as her brother did, and so this year they were each receiving a bucket.

When they were finally finished arranging it all, Nancy and Ned sat down on the couch and gazed down at it with no small wonder. A large package had appeared behind the tree earlier that day, and Nancy had been given strict orders to leave it alone. She was intrigued by it, as Ned had doubtless known she would be.

Nancy's own presents to him were rather small—a bottle of aftershave with a woodsy scent she adored on him, a lovely thick muffler to replace the one he had misplaced a week earlier, a leather wallet with a special note for him inside—but privately she thought her news about her pregnancy might be the more important gift. Ned had waited on her practically hand and foot during her pregnancy with the twins, and she didn't doubt that he would be just as conscientious for this one.

Ned wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I think we've outdone ourselves," he murmured, and kissed her temple.

Nancy smiled. "Definitely," she murmured. "But it's just... I don't know. I love them so much, and I just want them to have everything I could possibly give them..."

"I know exactly what you mean," Ned murmured against her skin. "Although that does explain all the cookies..."

"They're so cute with frosting all over their faces."

Ned smiled. "Speaking of..." He picked up the plate of cookies the twins had left out. "Mrs. Claus?"

"Mr. Claus," she replied, and they each took a cookie.

When they finished off their mugs of cocoa too, Nancy was feeling tired. Christmas Eve had been full of last-minute preparations and grocery shopping, and Nancy had already prepared the food she would be taking to her in-laws' for their family celebration. The twins had helped too, in their way, but a day spent with them always left her feeling utterly exhausted. The warm milk in the cocoa was just the last straw.

"Finished?"

"Mmm-hmm," Nancy murmured, and Ned picked up their mugs and took them to the sink to wash out. Nancy rose and walked over to the radio to turn it off so they could go to bed, but when Ned walked back in she was still standing beside it. "White Christmas" had just begun, and she looked up at her husband with her eyes gleaming.

Ned gazed at her without speaking for a moment, then walked over to her, opening his arms. She sighed as she stepped into them, and they began to sway together to the low melancholy sound of Bing Crosby's voice.

Nancy rested her cheek against her husband's shoulder, savoring the warm solid bulk of him through his robe. He held her close and she sighed as she relaxed into his embrace. "I heard this song for the first time the first Christmas you were gone," she murmured. "It made me think of you with such longing. With every letter I wrote you, I always wanted it to be the last one; whenever I saw your handwriting on an envelope, it was nowhere near as good as seeing your face, but it helped."

Ned sighed, too. "In my dreams I always wanted this, exactly _this_ ," he murmured. "The woman I loved in my arms. Our children asleep and eager to open their presents in the morning. Being with my family. Being here and home with you and knowing that everyone I loved was safe and happy, and that when I woke up, the dream wouldn't be over. And everything I wanted... it was easier to pour it out with pen and paper than it ever was to say it to you."

Nancy moved back, her body still swaying with her husband's. "And is that still true now?"

Ned shook his head. "I hope you know how much I love you," he murmured. "I try to say it every day, every time I kiss you, every time I hug you, every time I hold you. I think it and feel it with every beat of my heart, but I can't say it nearly so often as that." He smiled at her. "But I love you so much, Nancy. More than words, beyond reason, so fiercely that sometimes it takes my breath away."

"And I love you," she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. "Forever. With all of me, everything I have and all that I am. When you came home, it was the only Christmas present I would ever need, for the rest of my life. Without you..." She shook her head. "I would never have been whole again. You have given me such love that I can't imagine how I ever was able to live without it."

He smiled at her. "Because we're two parts of a whole, you and I," he murmured.

She raised her arm and he raised his, and they intertwined their fingers with their forearms and the pale scars touching. She could feel his pulse beating faintly beneath his skin, and then he leaned down to give her a long, soft kiss.

"We are," she whispered. "And I'm so grateful that you're by my side."

They kept swaying slowly together until the song ended. Then Ned leaned over and turned off the radio. Nancy was still gripping his hand, but she was so tired...

She had her eyes closed when she heard him chuckle. "My sweetheart is exhausted, hmm," he murmured. She didn't have time to respond before he was sweeping her up into his arms, and Ned was smiling when her eyes flew open in shock.

"Ned," she squealed quietly in protest.

"You're in a delicate way, sweetheart," he murmured, a twinkle in his eye. "Let me do this."

They turned off the lights and he carried her to their bed, and Nancy relaxed against the mattress with a sigh. Her robe was so warm around her, but she finally summoned the strength to shrug out of it and let her slippers drop to the floor before sliding beneath the covers.

When Ned joined her Nancy cuddled against him immediately, letting out a soft contented sigh. "I love you," she whispered. "So much, love."

He kissed the crown of her head. "And I love you," he murmured, stroking her hair. She felt him relax against her. "Merry Christmas, beloved."

"Merry Christmas," she whispered with a smile, already drifting off.

She felt like only a few hours had passed, and maybe they had, when she was awakened by quiet giggling. Michael and Margaret were standing beside the bed, and Margaret had her palm on the mattress, only a few inches away from her mother. "Mommy!" she stage-whispered. "Mommy, it's Christmas! Santa came!"

"Come on!" Michael begged, impatient.

The twins were running in dizzy circles around the living room as Nancy and Ned rose and stumbled to the kitchen to make their coffee, and Ned pulled out the camera they had bought the year before. Then they gave Michael and Margaret permission to start opening presents.

Soon the entire living room was blanketed in torn paper and ribbon, and the twins were squealing with excitement over dolls, miniature trucks, stuffed animals, building blocks, coloring books and puzzles, their stockings full of candy and fruit and nuts. Nancy was feeling marginally more awake when they discovered the presents their parents had wrapped for each other. They brought them over carefully, watching with wide, delighted eyes.

Ned thanked Nancy for the presents she had given him with a smile, drawing her close to him for a kiss that made the twins cover their eyes, but Margaret was giggling. One of her presents had been a tiara with a short length of tulle behind it, and it was perched on her golden hair; Nancy thought she looked adorable, and asked Ned to take a photograph of her.

Ned's presents to Nancy included a pair of beautiful tan leather gloves lined in cashmere, and Nancy opened that smaller present first, savoring the anticipation of opening the larger one. She had a feeling she already knew what it was, but she hadn't peeked.

When she tore the paper away, the children gasped in delighted surprise. "Daddy!" Michael said. "Daddy, _look!_ "

Ned chuckled. "I know."

The twins had seen televisions before, on display in furniture stores, and had been entranced by them. Maggie clapped and squealed.

Then she turned to her father, her eyes wide. "It's for Mommy?"

"It's for all of us," Ned chuckled. "And Mommy too."

Then he asked the twins to help them clean up all the torn wrapping paper, and they ran around the living room like tiny dervishes, collecting it and throwing it away with giggles. After breakfast, Nancy heated up the dishes she was taking to her in-laws' for their Christmas lunch while Ned helped the children dress to head to Grandma and Papa's house, Michael in a navy sweater with khaki trousers, Margaret in a green plaid jumper with a white shirt underneath and a matching bow in her fine golden hair. Nancy put on a warm and festive red day dress while the casserole dishes were in the oven, and Ned put on a navy sweater and khaki trousers.

Nancy chuckled at him when she saw what he was wearing. "Well, honey, if you wanted to be Mike's twin..."

Ned looked down at his outfit and chuckled too. "The gray slacks, then."

Nancy nodded, but smiled fondly at him. He put on the aftershave she had given him too, and that made her want to bury her face against him and take a deep breath.

Each twin was allowed to bring a toy, and Ned packed up the cardboard "streets" he had made as well. On the way to his parents' house, Nancy looked down at her belly and wondered how she would tell the twins they would have a baby brother or sister. They were intensely curious, the pair of them. Nancy couldn't clearly remember how she had been told about how babies were made. For all she knew she never had been told. She made a mental note to ask Ned what he thought.

James Nickerson opened the door on their arrival, and both the twins squealed "Papa!" in greeting. He grinned at his grandchildren, reaching down to sweep Margaret into his arms, and he carried her inside and took Michael's hand in his own.

"Have you had a good Christmas morning?"

The twins babbled back to him in response as Nancy and Ned gathered the casserole dishes to take inside. Edith held the door open for them, and after they had put the dishes down, she gave Ned a welcoming hug, then wrapped Nancy in her arms too.

"Merry Christmas," she said with a delighted grin.

"Merry Christmas," Nancy replied with a smile. "Anything I can help with?"

James and Ned kept the twins occupied, by building a path with the cardboard roads and leading the trucks around it. When Nancy saw it, she could almost predict what was going to happen—Edith saw what her grandchildren, husband and son were doing, and dusted the flour off her hands so she could get her camera.

The spread was enormous, once Carson and Hannah arrived with her contribution and the eight of them sat down at the Nickersons' dining room table. Maggie and Mike had practically tackled their Grandpa and Hannah on their arrival, and they kept all the adults entertained by talking about their Christmas gifts, and their account of playing with Patricia and Tommy and Barbara the day before. They were eager to show the adults the pictures they had drawn for them, too, and to share the cookies they helped decorate.

Predictably, as soon as the meal was over and the plates were cleared, Maggie and Mike were both tired. They were just as stubbornly fighting it, though, and Ned took them in the living room with him and their grandfathers just so they could rest their eyes for a little while. He exchanged a smile with Nancy before he left, and when Nancy turned back to the sink, she saw Edith smiling at her.

"Thank you so much for making the mashed potatoes, sweetheart. They were delicious."

"Oh, it was nothing," Nancy demurred. "The turkey you made was spectacular. I couldn't believe how wonderful it tasted."

With the three of them working on putting away the leftovers and cleaning the dishes, the work didn't take long at all. Hannah claimed the rocking chair, and from the kitchen Nancy and Edith looked at Mike and Maggie, drowsing as they slumped between their father and grandfathers. Carson had his arm around Michael, and James had his around Margaret, as they and Ned talked. The radio played Christmas carols from the corner.

Edith was smiling at the scene when Nancy glanced over at her. "They're so precious," Edith murmured. "And so very curious too."

Nancy smiled. "They are that," she agreed.

"I suppose you and Ned are happy with two."

Nancy caught the faint hopeful note in Edith's voice. Michael and Margaret had spent the first year of their lives at the Nickersons', and Edith had always been happy to rock them to sleep when they were cranky or colicky, to play with them, to burp them and change them. Nancy had been happy for the help, and just as happy that Edith enjoyed it so much. For a time, they hadn't been sure if she would ever be a grandmother.

"We are happy with two," Nancy confirmed with a smile. "They're so perfect that we fear lightning wouldn't strike twice. But we have been talking about maybe having another one."

Edith wrapped her arm around Nancy's shoulders and gave her a happy hug. "Oh, that would be perfect," she said with a smile. "Maggie and Mike really are so very sweet, and another little one... oh, that smell, baby powder and milk... oh, I've missed it."

Nancy chuckled. "I would hardly know how to get through it without you there," she said. "You were almost my right hand when they were babies."

"Well, you had two," Edith pointed out. "It would be difficult under any circumstance. I'm sure one would be a breeze for you."

Nancy shook her head. "And you were so good with them. If you hadn't been there when Michael had colic, I would have torn every bit of my hair out."

Edith was smiling. "I was just glad I could help. You and Ned have done such a great job with them."

Nancy paused, then. Michael had slumped onto his father's lap, and Ned picked him up and cradled him, brushing his hair off his forehead. Then he frowned, resting the heel of his hand against his son's flushed cheek, feeling his temperature. He took Michael's socks off—his shoes had come off when they were playing—and his sweater, leaving him in his miniature undershirt; then Michael drowsily slumped against him again.

"He's done such an amazing job because of you," Nancy murmured, when she saw that Ned wasn't alarmed over Michael. Apparently he was just flushed, not feverish. "Because you raised him so well. Thank you for letting me have him. You and James have been so wonderful to us."

Edith smiled. "You have his heart, Nancy," she murmured. "You have for the longest time, and I was happy to see him happy with you. I think you understand it now, even if you didn't before, how you can feel infinite love for someone—and your love can be just as infinite for the children that person gives you. I love James, and I always will, but my son... I've always wanted to see him settled, safe and happy, and he is. My grandchildren... to have another sweet little girl in the family."

Maggie sighed, tucking her legs up and nestling against her grandfather's side.

"Did Ned tell you about my gift?"

"The television set? Oh, yes. He was so excited about it." Edith smiled. "James isn't too sure about purchasing one for us, so maybe you can help me convince him that it would be a good idea."

Nancy chuckled. "I'm not even sure that it is yet," she admitted. "Maybe after a few weeks it won't seem strange to watch a picture instead of listening to the radio."

All the excitement had exhausted Michael and Margaret, and after they ate dinner cobbled from leftovers, Nancy and Ned said their goodbyes, hugging Ned's parents and Nancy's father. Hannah scooped up each twin and bestowed a smacking kiss, telling them that the next time they visited their Grandpa, she would be sure to make them a treat.

Once they were home, Nancy checked on Michael again. He still felt a little warmer than usual, but otherwise he seemed okay. She wet a washcloth in cold water and bathed his face with it, and he sighed.

"Are you hot, baby?"

"I'm okay," Michael said.

"Hmm. Maybe some medicine..."

Michael shook his head. He hated taking medicine, and Nancy didn't blame him. She had always hated that, too.

"Okay. Maybe a little apple juice, then? But if you start feeling sick, tell me, okay? The medicine will help you feel better."

After the juice, Michael went to bed easily enough. Margaret was exhausted too, and when Nancy went into her room to check her temperature and how she was feeling, she had her new stuffed bear cuddled to her.

"Feeling okay, sweetheart?"

"Mmm," Maggie nodded. "Sleepy."

"That's good." Nancy stroked her hair from her forehead, and laid her fingers against her cheek. She seemed okay too. "Sleep well, baby. I love you."

Nancy found Ned in the living room, hooking up the new television set. "You just couldn't wait, could you," she murmured, chuckling.

Ned gave her a sheepish smile. "It's like a new toy," he said apologetically.

"And we'll have plenty of time to play with it tomorrow," she told him, walking over to him and stroking her palm over his shoulder blades. "Come to bed, love."

They turned off the lights and headed to bed. Nancy opened her dresser to find her long-sleeved pajama top, and saw the tied bundle of letters in the corner of her drawer. Ned had kept his letters to her too, and together they made a significant stack. She smiled at them, then slipped into the top, going to their bed with her long legs bare.

One day, if Margaret asked Nancy about how she and Ned had met, how they had fallen in love, Nancy could show her the letters. The paper she had stroked with her fingertips, the ink her eyes had traced so many times, the words that even now seemed to echo in her heart. For Margaret's entire life, for Michael's entire life too, her parents had been there, and she thought they already knew how much their parents loved each other. If anything, Margaret might be surprised at how tentative they had been at first. Now the twins just giggled if they walked in and saw their parents dancing to the song on the radio, or if Ned ducked in and kissed Nancy's neck while she was washing dishes and made her laugh and squirm, and they weren't mortified when they came into their parents' bedroom and found them cuddled up together in bed.

Nancy wanted to show her children the same love, the same happiness, that her parents had shown her when she was a child, that her father still showed her now. Even when she had a long day at work, when she came home to them, she played with them and let them cuddle up with her on the couch to read to them, she let them help her make dinner, and she told them how much she loved them when she tucked them into bed at night.

She had no words for how thankful she was that Ned had been around for their entire lives. Edith had been a tremendous help when the twins had been small, and James too, but she couldn't imagine raising them alone. She was so grateful she hadn't had to do that.

The room was chilly and so were the sheets, but Ned was so warm against her, and she cuddled against him with a happy sigh. "Oh, it will be so painful to go back to work in a few days," Ned murmured. "Tomorrow let's all make snow angels and—and snow cream? And hot cocoa."

"When we're not watching the television?" Nancy teased him.

"Oh, I'm sure it will be fun for a few hours," Ned murmured, and kissed her neck. "But I've never known Maggie and Mike to want to stay inside for longer than three hours at a stretch, when they were awake anyway."

"Mmm. True." She giggled when he nuzzled against her, rolling onto her back, and Ned rolled with her, carefully to keep from crushing her. "Thank you, by the way. It was a very sweet gift."

"Very sweet?"

"Mmm-hmm." Nancy closed her eyes, running her fingers through his hair as he kissed her earlobe.

"Now... I seem to find that there's one last gift I somehow forgot to unwrap..." He trailed kisses down to the opening of her shirt, then loosed the first button. Nancy reached for the quilt and pulled it up to keep the draft from her newly-bared skin, then joined him beneath it.

"You mean the same gift I give you every Christmas?" she whispered. In the dim light from the bedside lamp, she could see him smiling, and she smiled back at him.

He nodded. "My beautiful wife," he whispered, and kept his gaze locked to hers as he opened her pajama top. "You and our children are the best presents I could ever have."

She nodded, bringing her hand up to caress his face. "I love you more than I could ever say," she said softly. "More than I ever knew was possible."

They moved slowly and quietly together; she sighed when he slipped her panties off, when he moved onto his knees between her legs and lowered himself to her, kissing and stroking and caressing her until she wrapped her legs around him. He moved over her and she ran her fingers through his hair as he nuzzled against her neck, and she gasped when he guided himself to her, when his sex slipped inside hers.

"Ned," she breathed. "Oh yes, _yes_..."

He chuckled against her skin, and she ran her other hand down his back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath his skin, feeling his hips rock as he worked inside her. Nancy's breathing was ragged, and when he nipped at her neck she dug the points of her fingernails into his shoulder blade, angling her hips.

"Nancy," he murmured, and his own breathing was ragged too. "You feel so good, so incredibly good..."

He arched and slipped his hand between her legs, and Nancy kissed him as he began to stroke her there, still moving inside her. Making love to him was sometimes just sweet and comfortable, and felt more like she was allowing him to find pleasure in her than anything else, but the closeness and intimacy of it was still enough to leave her happy. Other nights, though, they felt so in tune with each other that they could, and had, made love for hours, and he gave her release, taking his own in her, only to tease her to the heights of delirious happiness again.

The pressure of it built inside her until she was gasping and moaning quietly, kissing him to muffle her cries, and she could tell by the speed of his thrusts that he was close to losing his control. She cried out against his chest, her hips jerking as she responded to him.

"Yes?" Ned grunted.

"Yes," she whimpered, tilting her head back, her shoulders tensing as she reached her release and he stiffened over her, finding his own inside her. For a long moment, for a space of speeding heartbeats, she was senseless to the world around her; she knew only him and the delight of feeling him joined to her. She couldn't move; breathing was the most she could manage.

Then he moved onto his side, cuddling up with her for a moment, and she rested her forehead against his chest. "Ned," she whispered, toying with his hair. "Oh, love."

"Yes," he murmured. "Yes, darling. I love you so much."

His arm was looped around her waist, and she felt herself contract with every brush of his fingertips. She was oversensitized and overwhelmed, still quivering from the height of her release. She clung to her husband until he moved away from her to clean them up and hastily dress, and then after he returned to her, pulling her to him again, and both of them shivered together against the chill of the night.

She pulled the quilt up and they moved under it like children, chuckling as she nestled against him and he stroked her temple. She felt warm and safe and loved, and so happy that just the sheer knowledge of it almost ached. In the darkness, just feeling him breathe against her, feeling his chest expand and fall, was enough to soothe her to sleep.

Some nights, like tonight, she didn't want to miss a single second of it. The scar on the inside of her forearm was warm where it was in contact with Ned's skin, and she remembered who she had been while they were apart like a troubled distant friend. As much as it had hurt, as terribly as she had missed him, over the distance and through the letters they had been able to fall in love slowly, and she was glad for that. She couldn't be more proud of the man she had married, the man he had become.

Ned sighed softly. "Love you," he murmured, nestling against her, his voice slow with exhaustion.

"Love you," she whispered, kissing the flesh just over his heart, and when she closed her eyes, she began to drift off immediately, her pulse matched to his.


End file.
